The Last Of The Eldar: The Hunt Through Beleriand
by kleoevan
Summary: Canyo is one of the early generations of Elves born at Cuiviénen. He goes with his friend Nowë and many of his people westwards upon the Great Journey. But the quest is far from smooth. Canyo will face both tragedy and adventure, gaining friends and foes as he is swept up over time into the events of the first Age of the Sun. OC's with appearances by canon characters!
1. Prologue: Awaiting

**The Last Of The Eldar  
**

**The Hunt Through Beleriand  
**

**Prologue: Awaiting**

The ceaseless thundering of the waves of the deep swelled upon the grey tower, pouring their unending wrath fruitlessly upon the archaic edifice. At the pinnacle of the tower stood a tall lone figure. The echoes of the waves beneath him rose up and filled his mind. For a moment he closed his eyes and let the world and the long ages slip away until all that remained was the simple throbbing of the frothing sea. He opened his eyes, which were ancient beyond reckoning and as grey as the havens, which he called home. The sun was sinking into its fiery cradle behind the outstretched waves in the west, setting all to shimmering glass.

The sight of the Sundering Sea stretching out beyond the curve of the horizon filled him with a burning longing more acute than any mortal could long endure and a deep ache that gnawed at him far deeper than his bones. He had gazed upon this sea for many millennia. And from the moment he had first glimpsed the waves sparkling beneath the stars like precious stones and heard their whispers and roars concerning that far shore in the West, across the ages to his present breath, filling his chest with salty sea air, that aching had only increased to an all-consuming fire that ever threatened to drive him into the quenching arms of the sea.

He ached for his true home—beyond the shimmering waves and indeed beyond the circle of the world. He longed to sail unto Aman, Valinor, the realm of the Lords of the West—to the seat of Manwë—to at long last join his kin and all of the Eldar—all of the Elves who had ever chosen to answer the call of the Valar so many eons ago. He was naturally fond of all water, and once he had reached it, especially the great sea. This almost innate allure to water coupled with his longing for his true home made staying upon these fading shores unbearable. But it was no uncontrollable madness, only the deepest yearning that must eventually and ultimately be fulfilled. He had missed and willingly given up several opportunities to journey hence over the immeasurable count of years. He staunchly put his faith in the wisdom of the Lords of the West and he would obey their will to the last.

Círdan sighed deeply. He looked down from his high vantage atop the watchtower to his right. There below him, safely moored and nestled in the calm waters at the edge of the Gulf of Lhun was the ship that he had finally and long prepared to take him into the West. Over the ages Círdan had made many ships for the elves leaving Middle Earth. But never were any of these beautiful vessels meant to ferry him to his long awaited rest in the uttermost West.

Yet after thousands of lives of Men and even of Elves Círdan was nearly prepared to complete the Great Journey. He traced the graceful curve of its silver prow and the elegant but strong pale mast with his ageless and keen Elf eyes.

_Not yet, _he thought. _Soon though. Very soon._ The immanence of his final departure weighed upon his mind and spirit with both gravity and levity. Círdan allowed himself to become lost momentarily beneath the cloud of emotions welling up within him.

But the careful and nearly silent footsteps of an approaching stranger brought him from his private reverie with the disciplined awareness of both the Ancient and the Wise back to his wind-swept vigil atop the Havens.

Círdan turned slowly to see another elf standing beside him, his long golden hair braided and pulled skillfully away from his piercing pale eyes. He wore the robes the Eldar used in travel, yet he had been the guest of Círdan for years now. Like nearly all elves he was beardless, despite his great age, his face was yet youthful—the only hint of the long count of years the elf had endured could be seen in the depths of his light azure eyes.

Círdan smiled at the newcomer and absent-mindedly stroked his own well-kept long silver beard—the clearest evidence of his immense age, even by the standards of the Elves. Next to Círdan, his golden haired companion could not compare with the uninterrupted ages that swirled behind Círdan's grey eyes.

Indeed, he was the oldest of the Firstborn remaining in Middle Earth. His sharp and long-lived memory stretched back over three whole ages of the world. Though those of the Firstborn did not age as do mortal men, he was in his "old age" by the reckoning of the Elves. Círdan could recall the rising of the first sun in the west. He could remember the millennia before the sun and moon were made when all was wind and starlight. And only very few indeed knew that Círdan could recall the sweet waters of Cuivienen, the Waters of Awakening, in the far-east where Enel, the third of all Elves to awake, had gently roused him from sleep primordial. Círdan was one of the Unbegotten and had no father but Eru Illuvatar, the maker of Elves and Men and of all Arda.

And though never a great warrior or king, Círdan was greatly revered and respected by Men and Elves alike due to his wisdom, great age, and his history of faithfully serving all of the free peoples of Middle Earth since time immemorial.

The two elves stood side by side staring out at the sea. The newcomer folded his arms and stood stiffly and wearily. Círdan turned his head and noted his troubled posture.

"Friend, Glorfindel, what troubles you so much that you would join me in my lonely watch?"

Glorfindel gave a thin wry smile. "The sea is indeed beautiful from this point. I see why you return here daily to observe its splendor and scintillating fire."

"The waters of Ulmo are indeed dazzling to behold, and they hold the key to my heart, but viewing its grandeur is not the reason I frequent this watch." Círdan paused as Glorfindel's smile returned to a weary and troubled frown. "What troubles you, friend?" he asked once more.

"Why do we linger on these shores? For generations you have aided all of our kin in leaving these grey lands. Why do we yet stay?"

"It is as I have said before, my old friend, I will remain in Middle Earth until the last Eldar sets sail into the West. I will not leave as much as one willing Elf behind. This has been my task for many generations—as you have put it."

"But we are the last two—you and I. All of those who ever intended to journey over the sea have done so. And all those of our kind which remain are of the Avari and mean to dwell on these shores and fade amidst the kingdoms of Men unto the ending of the world. And your mission never was to them. Has your heart and your purpose changed to include them as well? For if it has, then I fear that you will never sail yourself from this land and I shall have to set sail without you," Glorfindel's voice was full of concern and frustration.

Smiling at the passion of his companion Círdan answered, "You need not worry. You shall indeed see the Blessed Realm once more. My heart burns within me to see the home of my kin and the dwelling of the Valar. I tremble to contemplate what it must be for your spirit—to have dwelt there twice and have left twice. No, have no fear, for you are Amanyar, and shall see the light of your birthplace once more."

"We will both sail together. And soon. But as to your other concerns—my purpose has not changed. I wait only for those of our kin who ever undertook or wanted to undertake the Great Journey. I am not duty bound to the ones who have refused the call or who are content to stay in Middle Earth. If some turn their hearts toward the West after I am gone, they will have to find their own way thence."

"And finally you are not correct in your claim that we are the last of the Eldar upon these shores. Indeed one yet remains."

Glorfindel turned in confusion, "Of whom do you speak? I have kept careful records since I have arrived at the Havens. I sent out messengers to Greenwood the Great and to all of the other remaining settlements. I have even made a careful census of all the Noldor and Sindar that came east over the mountains out of the ruins of Beleriand. Since that time all have sailed over the sea or perished in the wars hence. Not one of them remains. You must be in error in your reckoning."

"I have made no error as you boldly suppose. Of your meticulous and thorough measures to search amongst elf-kind for any tarrying Eldar I find no fault. However, the one of whom I speak dwells not in any realm or hold of Elves. And seldom has he ever had dealings with the greater portion of our peoples though he be more ancient than you, if only slightly less than me."

"How can such a person exist? Why have I not heard tidings of this mysterious elf? Surely one so old as you suggest should have songs and tales written of him? Surely his deeds—however small should bring their echoes to the ears of our people?"

"Nay, dear friend, his long path has always carried him away from the Firstborn of Illuvatar. He is the estranged son of our kind. And ever in the shadows has he dwelt. No songs or tales have been made of his deeds—at least not by the tongues of the Eldar. Yet in the halls across the sea he will be welcomed with honor and praise by Manwë and all the Valar. For though his deeds are largely secret to most, the Valar are not unaware of his great toils and the good that he has wrought in the world during his time. And I believe there is one across the sea besides the Valar who loves him and awaits his arrival eagerly and will embrace him in joy. At the End of Days his place will be next to the heroes of time—Feänor, Gil-Galad, Turin Turambar, Elendil, Ecthelion, Frodo of the Nine-Fingers, and next even to you, Glorfindel of Gondolin and Rivendell."

"I persist in my incredulity. How could such a hero go unnoticed by the sight of the Eldar?!"

Remembering an old grey pilgrim, tall but tired, jovial yet stern, wise and powerful, Círdan replied, "As an old friend once said, 'Even the very Wise cannot see all ends,' It is prideful for the Elves to think they can know the goings and comings of all in Middle Earth, much less those of each of their own kind. But he is not wholly invisible to our people. Few enough have had dealings with him. And fewer still know him well. I am fortunate to be among these. For I have known him his entire life and have aided him in his tasks over the ages as well as I may. And he has seen fit to entrust to me the long tale of his years. I swear to you, Glorfindel, that he exists, as I claim. For I would not linger here a second more if it were not so. And he, at long last, is ready, I believe, to leave these lands and find his own rest in Valinor. Very few have deserved it more than he."

Círdan's eyes roved away from Glorfindel to the hills surrounding the Havens. Suddenly he smiled. "Indeed he draws near!"

Círdan pointed back over the hills away from the sea. Sure enough Glorfindel spotted, coming over a far grassy ridge, a tall figure clad in a dark cloak. With his keen vision he saw that he was indeed of elf-kind, though his skin was dark from long exposure to the sun. There were marks upon the skin of his forearms in mysterious shapes and runes, but what they spelled Glorfindel could not yet discern. His hair was haggard and pure white beneath his hood, which was pulled low over his eyes. And he was powerfully built for any among the Children of Illuvatar. But he approached with the weary gait of one utterly exhausted from long toil, wending his way slowly among the sea rocks that dotted the hills about the Havens. He appeared very strange and wild to the high elf's eyes, and he wondered what was the nature and character of the mysterious pilgrim who stumbled over the hills towards the havens.

Círdan turned from his vigil, his fine silver hair flowing in mimicry of his sea-blue robes. He moved to the tower stair. "Come, Glorfindel. We shall haste down, and while we journey I shall relate to you his story so that upon your meeting you shall know and appreciate as I do all that he has endured and accomplished. Now let us greet our guest and our kin, the Last of the Eldar east of the sea, Canyo son of Nolmo, who is also known as Aledhel Nidayun."

* * *

Note for the story and DISCLAIMER:

This story contains many original characters to the Tolkien universe with cameos and roles from many established characters. But it is not meant to be set in any alternate universe. I am attempting to simply "write in the gaps" and "behind the scenes" but within the already established canon.

**I do not own or have any claim to the characters, places or concepts in any of Tolkien's writings. I am simply a fan seeking to write and enjoy the universe he created.**

I am attempting to write in a similar way to Tolkien-in word choice, dialogue, plot devices, and themes. I can never duplicate it or do it justice but I humbly attempt it nonetheless.

If any are concerned that I am mixing elves of different 'verses into my story, have no fear. I am not. Canyo is meant to remain 100% a Tolkien elf. His unusual appearance and names for an elf are due to the fact that he is an extraordinary character who has undergone extraordinary circumstances, which should in the end make him at least plausible within the Tolkien universe. He is not a "hero" in the classic sense and he is far from perfect with defects and flaws.

If you happen across this story and are intrigued enough to read it, thank you for your time. I hope that you find something here that you enjoy and that reminds you of why you delight in Tolkien's world in the first place. Happy reading!

4


	2. Chapter 1: The Great Journey

**Chapter 1: The Great Journey**

**Cuivi****é****nen-during the Years of the Trees**

Canyo raced across the forest floor as fast as his young legs would carry him. He leaped over moss-covered logs, ducked under low hanging ferns and vines, and darted around the great trunks of trees that towered over him. His shoulder length white hair streamed out behind him like a pale banner as he leapt off a slope and slid and rolled in the soft moss and leafy undergrowth to continue his rabbit-like pace through the dark woods.

Above through the gaps in the branches the Great Stars glimmered brightly casting just enough light for him to maneuver through the sylvan terrain. His bare feet hardly made a noise—only a slight rustle as of a swift soft breeze stirring the forest floor.

All about him the sounds of the wide woods surrounded him and then faded into new noises as his young elf legs carried him swiftly onwards around stumps and over dark rivulets. He was searching through the starry half-light. Suddenly he skidded to a stop. A patch of wild flowers caught his eye. He bent low in the perpetual twilight of the stars to examine the flowers.

They were an exquisite batch of white lilies with yellow and red flushed through them studded with a miniature starscape of purple speckles. Yet one stem was missing its crowning flower. Canyo straightened up and looked about him, listening intently and peering into the semi-darkness of the trees about him.

Then floating down into his vision the missing lily wafted, fluttering lightly into his outstretched cupped hands. He caught it gently and looked up into the branches of a great fir tree just in time to see a little face disappear around the side of its trunk. A little giggle came down from where the face had just been. And it seemed to the young elf that all of the surrounding trees leaned towards the one with the giggle. And that tree seemed to shiver in delight, its branches waving merrily in the starlight.

_So it is a chase you want. _The boy elf thought. _ Then a chase you shall have, little Nell__ë__. _Letting the lily fall back into its fellows, Canyo leapt to the nearest branch and swung with ease up into the world of the trees. Again there was a sweet little laugh but this time from a few trees over. He followed the voice, leaping agilely from branch to branch, swinging and clambering as swiftly in the air as he had done upon the ground.

And so the sweet voice of laughter led him on deeper and deeper into the forest. Ever he grew closer so that he could see a foot disappearing behind a trunk, or a stream of white hair like his own dipping out of sight into the shadows. But as the merry chase drew on Canyo grew increasingly anxious._ We are too far from the others._ He thought. The game was all well in jest and merriment but it was perilous to stray far from the Wood Hall and the houses of the Elves near the shores of Cuiviénen. There were wild beasts that roved nearby. Several Elves had simply disappeared leaving no trace. And his mother had warned him of a dark and terrible creature that had attacked his people. Some had been killed, others taken, and everyone else had fled into the shadows of the forest until it had passed away east. And even though all had been well since the great earthquake and wild storm that had appeared together, Canyo was wary as he continued his pursuit.

He called out to the voice ahead, "Stop! We are too far! We must turn back!" But the little voice made no reply. In fact all the laughter and giggling had ceased. The only sounds were those of the forest under the sky and Canyo lightly racing among the branches. Suddenly fear gripped him, and his heart quickened.

"Nellë? Where are you?" He grew frantic. "Nellë! Nellë! Answer me! Nellë! Little sister!" He burst through a dense set of pine branches in a huff only to find Nellë standing quietly next to the trunk of the tree he had just landed in. She was a tiny little elf with the same unusual white hair as her brother. But she was only half his age and still very young. Her face was always filled with wonder and awe for the world all around her. But now she stood quietly looking very intently at something across the narrow stream that ran at the base of the tree in which they stood.

"I was calling for you! You should not run so far into the forest. Mother would not like it," he rebuked her as he stepped lightly across the branch towards her. But she made no response and simply squinted all the more keenly across the stream.

Coming up to her he noticed her distraction. "Nellë?" He followed her gaze into the starlit trees across the babbling brook. "What do you see?"

She pointed to a particular tree. "I saw that tree move."

"It moved?"

"Mhmm," she nodded, "It turned around, looked at me, and waved—like this." She demonstrated using her free hand. "And then it made a noise. It was all low and rumbly. It went, _'Creeaaaakyoombooom.' _It was saying hello."

He smiled at her innocence. "Trees do not speak like we do."

"Maybe they could if we taught them how!" she insisted indignantly.

"Who would wish to speak to a tree? What would a tree have to say?"

"It would tell me that it likes my voice and how I dance."

Canyo snorted, "And why would a tree tell you that?"

"That is what Momma says to me. And she says that everything likes me when I sing and dance—like the birds and animals. Maybe the trees like me too!"

"Mother is right. If trees could, they would like you. Everyone likes you—especially me." He smiled at her and they both looked back at the tree she had indicated. It simply looked like an average tree, young and strong with two strong branches near the top. But it made no signs of movement or of making any noises.

"Hey tree!" Nellë called. "Will you move, please?" The tree was stock still and silent save for a gentle pleasant creaking as it lightly swayed in the starry breeze. "Tree?" She looked back at her brother.

"It moved, Cannie, I promise! And it made that noise!"

"I'm sure you are right, sister," he said indulgingly. "But we cannot stay here and try to get it to speak again. We have to get back home. Mother is probably wondering where we are. And I have to help father with the preparations to leave. And you must help mother!"

"Okay," she sighed. "Bye tree!" she waved at it and he turned to go. Before she could move the tree straightened a little, opened bright fresh brown and green eyes, and raising one of its enormous top limbs, waved to her. She grinned from pointy ear to pointy ear. She put her finger to her lips and then giving a final wave she followed after her brother, returning to the forest floor.

They had wandered halfway back in comfortable silence when Nellë suddenly asked him, "Why are we going? I don't want to leave, Cannie."

He had wondered when she might ask him this. He was the only one that she could ask. Everyone else including their mother and father were incredibly excited to be leaving Cuiviénen and going west.

He could only barely remember when Oromë had found his people. Oromë was not an elf. He was something bigger and stronger. He called himself a Vala. And although he was very strong and fast and could easily have done the Elves harm like the Shadow Creature had done, he was very friendly to all of them. He called the Elves the Firstborn of Illuvatar, and taught them about the great Maker of the world. He had stayed with them and learned from them for a time as well. Then one day he told them that he was going to go back to his home and tell all of _his _people—other Valar and things bigger stronger and brighter than the Firstborn—about Canyo and all of his people. At least that is how his mother had explained it to him when he was Nellë's age.

Then the Great Earthquake and Storm happened. Little Canyo was not scared by the loud peels of thunder, the great flashing lightning, or the trembling of the earth as were all of the other elf children. He had sat on his father's shoulders in awe and watched until all was quiet again. Some said that the storm was the Valar showing their true natures—great and terrible like the Shadow Creature. But Canyo's father disagreed. He told his son that it was probably the Valar making it safe for all of them.

And so it seemed, for soon after, Oromë reappeared and told them that all of them—all of the Elves were invited to come and live with him and the rest of the Valar at their home far away across the sea. At this great invitation there was much confusion. Some did not trust Oromë or the Valar and suspected that there was some wicked trap afoot. Others were overjoyed and were eager to go with the great Vala.

But no one could reach a decision. So each of the three clans of the Elves chose one from among their own folk to travel with Oromë back to his home, Valinor, in order to see if what the Valar said and promised was indeed true. So together, Ingwë, Finwë, and Elwë set off into the utter unknown with Oromë. And all of the Quendi, both the skeptical and the hopeful, waited with baited breath to hear the report of their kin and the verdict they passed on the veracity of Oromë's claims of Valinor.

And only a score of rests prior they had returned with joyous news. All three of the ambassadors told of a land of exceeding beauty and light. They told the most incredible tales of mountains that seemed to reach the heavens. They spoke of many different beings of power and music and craftsmanship, and all of them had graciously welcomed the three elves into their land. For all three had returned dressed not in the fine but simple tunics of the people but in raiment of many colors and hues—with rich fabrics and textures—precious stones and metals woven into their garments. They spoke of the Valar with respect, reverence, and rapture. Canyo had sat three times for many hours while each had stood before the people to report what he had seen and heard and to explain to his own clan how they ought to respond to the call of the Valar.

And each agreed with the others—the Elves should all accept this unprecedented opportunity—to go and live and learn at the side of the mightiest in all of Arda. Yet as great as their excitement and joy was, and as compelling as their speeches to the Elves were, still some were fearful.

Since that time there had been great tumult among the clans and the families of the Elves. Most were ready to trust the word of their ambassador if not the word of the Valar. And these families made quick preparations to travel. Canyo's parents were of this number. They had long been friends with Elwë, their ambassador, loving him much and now they respected him all the more since his return from Valinor with his two compatriots.

However many others were fearful of the alleged powers and might of the Valar and the many other spirit servants that dwelt with them, which the ambassadors called the Maiar. The memory of the Shadow Creature was too firmly etched in their crystal memories to be lightly tossed aside by the bright words and exuberant reports of the three ambassadors. Some were already withdrawing their families into the woods away from Cuiviénen. They had already firmly decided to not go with Oromë. In fact they were seldom seen now among the others and when they were seen, they spoke in vehement whispers—urging as many as would listen to heed their words and follow them into the woods and remain there in secret. And to the dismay of the ambassadors and to Canyo's parents—many did follow them.

Until now all of the Elves had lived relatively together as one community along the shores of Cuiviénen. But before Canyo's eyes his entire community was being torn apart by the Choice of the Valar. Old friends were at now at bitter odds over the issue of going west. Families were being divided as one chose to go this way and another chose to go that way. It was all overwhelming, scary, and a bit depressing to Canyo. He could only imagine the burden it put upon his little sister.

Although he was too young to make his own choice on the matter, it did not keep him from wondering, _Which was the right course to take?_ For, he had not fully decided what he thought about the Valar and the whole affair. He trusted his parents to protect him and not lead him astray. But Oromë was unsettling. It was like standing next to a friendly thunderstorm or seeing someone speak to a passing avalanche of the mountains. He was not quite sure that he could ever feel comfortable living among such great beings. But it did not seem to matter. His parents were nearly prepared. And after the next rest and dreaming they would leave with a great number from their clan and follow Oromë.

So Canyo sought to encourage his little sister who was frightened and too young yet to grapple with the complexities and gravity of everything that was occurring. "Mother and Father are taking us somewhere much better than here."

"But I like it here," she came back.

"I know you do. I like it here also. But where we are going there will not be scary shadows in the woods of which you need be afraid and run. You will be able to explore as far as you want!"

"What about all of the animals that are my friends? What about the birds? I was teaching them to sing my songs!" she wailed.

"Nellë—"

"And, Cannie, what about that tree? I don't want to leave it. We were just getting to know one another!" She was very distraught and she had stopped walking. The forest had suddenly gone quiet as if listening to the pair of elf children. Canyo knelt and took her hands in his.

"You know Mother and Father love us, right?"

She gulped and nodded her head.

"They would never take us to anyone that would hurt us. They only want to help us learn and grow and be bigger and better. They want you to learn to sing and dance like the Stars. Would you like to sing and dance more and more all the time?"

Again she gave a little nod.

"And if we get there and we do not like it then we can always just come back. And all of your forest friends will be waiting for you. And you can tell that tree of yours all about what it was like across the sea. Okay?"

"Okay," she said reluctantly, "Let's go." She embraced Canyo in a fierce hug. "I'm still scared."

"That is alright. I am scared also. But I will never ever let anything bad happen to you, Nellë." He clutched her tight and when they parted she seemed comforted to his eyes and ready to adventure with her family and people.

"Come now, we have tarried here too long talking."

He stood to lead her onwards but as he did so an enormous black shape leapt from the shadows directly for his sister. Only by Canyo's lightning elf senses was he able to tackle her out of the way. But whatever the black shape was grabbed him in the air. However, it did not grab hard enough and he twisted free of it merely tearing his tunic. They landed hard on the needle strewn floor.

In an instant he was on his feet and had placed Nellë behind him and shielded her from the black shape which had landed and was turning around to come at them again. Now Canyo could see what had attacked them. A great black wolf prowled around a tree and slowly came towards them.

It was enormous, standing taller on all of its four legs than Canyo stood on his two. Its midnight fur was long, shaggy, and matted with filth and grime. The four enormous paws ended in wicked long claws. Its eyes were darker than the darkest night but out of them shown a red light as of a burning fire deep within the beast.

It growled menacingly and began to circle them. Fear gripped Canyo for he knew what it meant to do to his sister and him. She trembled like a little leaf behind him. She clutched his tunic to steady herself as she peeked around her brother to see the horrible wolf trying to flank them.

Suddenly, from some deep unknown source within him, a burning fire rose up inside of Canyo. It was as if a beast had unleashed itself from a dark cave within his spirit and was uncurling itself into a powerful creature. It fanned itself into a wrathful inferno. How dare this hound threaten those of the Firstborn! He and Nellë were the Children of Illuvatar and no creature great or small was nobler, fairer, or, as the young elf now realized, more fell in their wrath. This foul beast would not have the pleasure of killing and devouring his sister and him. And it would rue the day that it had attempted to do so.

Swiftly Canyo scooped up a thick strong hardwood branch from the forest floor and held it up in front of him. The wolf growled deeper and the coals of its eyes narrowed in anger. The foolish elf-pup meant to fight! It could not hope to withstand its ferocity. Snarling it darted forward expecting its powerful jaws to close on the elf child's warm flesh. But as it closed in on the boy, it received a powerful strike quick as lightning across its snout. The wolf darted back surprised. Its jaw throbbed in agony and it tasted and smelled blood in its mouth—its own blood. A great tooth fell out of its drooling maw onto the needle covered forest floor. As it snuffed the intake of air made its nose burn like hot oil. It glared at the children evilly and circled them once more, filled now all the more with hate and rage.

Canyo was not surprised at his actions. He glared right back into the wolf's eyes boldly. A cold determination gripped him—channeling the fire in him and guiding his stance and his hands. He gripped the branch harder—feeling the moss and bark flake beneath his fingers. It was a good solid piece and if the wolf ventured near again it would feel this branch down to its black bones.

The beast circled him slowly sizing up the boy and his sister. It searched for an opening in the boy's guard. Canyo shifted his weight slightly, feigning an opening. The wolf lunged forward but he was ready. He swung the branch again with all his might. But the wolf was also ready and darted to the side, hoping to come around at Nellë as Canyo was off balance. Canyo knew not what aided his hands, but he did not over step or over swing and spun the branch over his head with renewed vigor. The wolf saw its mistake and narrowly dodged back out of range—the tip of the hardwood slapping its retreating tail.

It paused and looked back preparing for a more cunning attack. But Canyo held the branch straight out before him in challenge to the fell creature.

"Come no nearer Hound of Darkness!" Canyo warned, "You shall not taste my sister's flesh nor drink my blood tonight!"

The wolf circled closer letting blood and its foul spittle drip as it lusted all the more for the elf children.

"By all means stray just a bit closer, forest whelp! My branch here desires to give you another kiss!" Canyo whipped his weapon back and forth with great speed and wrath.

The great wolf paused and long he stood there glaring into the eyes of Canyo. But the child defied him with great courage, matching the wolf eye to eye. Finally it gave a great snort and slowly turned away, as if to say the children were not worth its time and trouble. It had already accomplished its malicious purpose anyways. It moved away to the shadows and began to slink away under the dark of the trees.

Canyo called after it, "Be gone, wild filth. Learn from your folly and trouble the Elves no more!"

Finding her voice Nellë shouted after her brother, "And go wash yourself! You're dirty and you stink!"

The wolf was gone but they saw its hateful eyes in the shadows narrow at them. And Canyo thought he heard a deep growling voice in the dark murmur to him, "We shall meet again, foolish boy." And then all was quiet. In a few moments the forest noises returned and the shadow of the wolf passed from the region.

Canyo turned to his sister who was still trembling but doing much better now that the wolf was gone. "Are you alright?" he asked her.

She nodded her head but said nothing. He paced the area where they had encountered the wolf to make certain that it was indeed gone. He came back to Nellë who was holding something in her hand. She held it out to Canyo. It was the tooth that he had knocked from the jaws of the wolf.

He took the tooth from her and smiled, the wrathful spark transforming into a loving glow. He hugged her tightly in his arms and then picked her up and she clung to him fiercely. "Let us at last haste all the way home!"

He set off into the woods at a great pace, carrying his sister with ease. He felt strange now—stronger, wilder, more grown up. Some new piece of him had awoken during the confrontation with the wolf. The great fire in him had died down but the spark was still there—a fierceness that lay waiting to be ignited into an inferno. He clutched the wolf tooth tightly in one hand and held his sister firmly in his other arm as he raced towards his home.

Canyo quickly made his way back to the shores of Cuiviénen and to the homes of his people. All was as busy as a bee hive. Elves of every clan were going hither and thither. Groups of twos and threes were speaking in quiet clusters discussing no doubt the options of leaving or staying. Women gathered and prepared food for the journey. Men stored and made ready all supplies and provisions.

He quickly found his mother, who had been furiously making her own preparations and left Nellë in her care. To her anxious and angry questions of their whereabouts and doings Canyo only mentioned their race through the trees. He said nothing of the wolf attack. He briefly stepped inside their home to change out of his torn tunic and he stored the wolf tooth in a pouch he wore at his side. Then he went off through the chaos to find his father and aid him.

Canyo sought his father near the Great Hall supposing that he was speaking there with other senior members of their clan. He came up to the simple but elegant and flowing structure. But no one was within its wide open front. Yet he heard voices from around on the far side of it. One of which he picked out as belonging to his father.

He wended his way around the trees that surrounded and formed the walls of the Great Hall, working his way to where he heard the voices. As he bent around the corner he came face to face with Oromë the Vala.

Canyo started but recovered almost instantly. He looked upon Oromë bravely. He was very large—thrice an adult elf's height. And a light seemed to shine from him, through him, and around him all at once. Yet the light did not diminish or obscure him in any way. In fact Canyo could see clearly every detail of the great being. Indeed he was so clear and vivid that the world about him seemed less so.

He was dressed in rich robes of woodland greens and browns. A great grey and silver cloak was wrapped about him, the hood thrown back. Plates of overlapped armor made of some shimmering precious material covered his shoulders. His powerful arms were bare and covered in bits of earth and plant. He wore no foot gear for he enjoyed the feel of the ground beneath him as he ran swift as the wind over all of Middle Earth. At his side a great horn of some long forgotten creature hung. And on his back he wore a mighty bow made of a young tree.

Oromë was The Hunter—the greatest hunter. He was the most skilled in tracking, stealth, and flight. He knew nearly all of the land and traveled over it much, so it was that he became the first of the Valar to come across the Elves after their awakening by the shores of Cuiviénen.

The Hunter spoke to the awed elf boy at his feet. "Well met at last, Canyo, son of Nolmo. Long I have watched you among your family and your kin. And long you have watched me in my doings with the elders of your people. You show the makings of a great elf. And if I am not mistaken you take after me in your skill in wood and glen. You should make a fine huntsman one day."

"Pardon, Great Lord, but how do you know what is to come?"

"Dear young one, whilst I am not Mandos and know not great dooms nor the ends of things to be, I am adept at seeing the seeds of their inception. An acorn will grow into a great tree and I need not see the end to know that it will be so. And you, young one, have the seed of a hunter within you. I believe that you are coming with me to my home across the sea?"

"That is correct, Great Lord. We will finish making our preparations and once rested I will join my father and all of my kin that are accompanying you westwards."

"Yes you will travel under your father and it is by his will that you do so. But what of your will and your mind? If young Canyo were the master of the ways of his feet whither would he go?"

Canyo was surprised and at a loss. He had not expected to be asked this by an elder and least of all by Oromë himself. He thought about everything that had happened. He did enjoy living by Cuiviénen. But he did not believe, like many Elves did, that the Valar intended them harm. Then he looked up at the great form and vision of Oromë the Hunter. He saw in the Vala's eyes many hidden secrets and memories of far off places. And wanderlust was awoken within him that merged with the spark already lit there and made it burn brighter in his spirit. He longed to roam far and wide and see the world as Oromë had done. He was not yet sure of dwelling in Valinor but he knew that he could not stay in this valley for all time.

"I would follow you, Great Huntsman, whithersoever you may lead!"

"Your fiery words bring joy to my heart, young Canyo. And I see that you are aptly named indeed. For you are bold and fear not to go where others would tarry or turn aside. When we arrive at long last in Valinor I shall teach you the art and skill that I have—that of scents and sounds of the land and of finding your way though there is no track or trail to be followed."

"I would very gladly be your pupil, Great Lord!"

"That is well," Oromë said. Then looking intently at the child a shadow seemed to pass between them and an unknown sense of grief came over him as he looked upon the young elf. Yet the moment passed and all was as it had been. But the great Vala was moved to speak once more to the boy.

"Here is my first lesson to you then, son of Nolmo: Learn well the wisdom of your father and heed the counsel of those at his side and you will not go astray, whatever path you must tread."

Canyo nodded although he did not understand the full meaning of the Huntsman's lesson.

"Very good. Now haste you to your father's side. They are concluding their discussion and your aid will be required at present no doubt."

Canyo nodded and bowing low ran off further along the hall until he could see a group of tall elves standing and talking together. There he recognized his father standing next to Elwë and his brother Olwë and next to them was his father's friend Nowë. There were three women there and two other men that he did not recognize. But as he came up to them they began to wander off to their own business.

Nolmo turned to see his son approaching and embraced him, greeting him warmly, though he asked, "Where have you been, my son? I would have had it that you should listen to our proceedings that we may discuss the matters together later."

"I am sorry, father. I was away in the forest with Nellë. But I am here now."

"Indeed you are. And Nowë and I indeed have need of you if we are to be ready to leave with the others. Come. Let us return to what needs be done."

The three elves started off, returning along the path that Canyo had taken there, Nolmo in the lead and Nowë and Canyo following a few paces behind. As they walked Nowë turned and observed the boy beside him. He walked taller and more squarely than before. He seemed both grave and yet filled with new wonder. Already a respected leader among the people, Nowë was gifted at seeing the true nature of things that were. Something had changed within the boy and a bright spark was burning within him. It was wild and as yet unrefined, full of potential. But also perilous if left to burn at will.

He leaned in and speaking in a hushed voice said to Canyo, "Where is the boy that I saw but only a handful of hours before? He is gone, and in his place stands a young elf lord brave and bright. What has transpired with you that you walk beside me as one of far greater age than you carry?"

Canyo did not wish to speak of the wolf in detail or of the wishes that the Huntsman had ignited within him. At least he did not wish to speak of these things where his father might overhear. He was afraid of what is father would think of both of these circumstances.

But he replied to Nowë, "I met one in the woods and one here among our own that have done this to me. I will explain clearly more when the ears of my father are not nigh."

The older elf gave a bemused smile but said no more, respecting the boy's wishes and they continued on to Canyo's home which was next to Nowë's. Together they set about gathering what they would need for the journey-cloaks, water skins, and blankets. In a short while they were finished and Canyo helped Nowë prepare his own household for the Great Journey.

He ended those preparations by guiding Nowë's horse to drink and graze by the shoreline of Cuiviénen. He sat quietly with his knees to his chest on the soft sand, letting the waves gently lap across his bare toes. He looked up and stared deeply at the shining stars above. He became lost in thought about recent events—his sister's silly talking tree, the wolf, and meeting Oromë.

He hardly noticed when another elf approached also leading a horse to drink and feed. And only when the elf sat next to him did he realize that it was his father. They sat in silence for a long time simply listening to the sweet waters and gazing up into the perpetually sparkling midnight.

At length Nolmo said to his son, "Your sister spoke to me of what took place in the woods ere you arrived to help me at the Hall."

Canyo's heart skipped a beat. "She did? What did she say?"

"She told me everything—about your chase through the forest, about your concern that you both were too far from home, about the tree that she saw move, and also about the wolf that attacked you. Why did you say nothing of this to me?"

"I—I was afraid, father."

"Why were you afraid?"

"I was afraid that you would be angry with me for leading my sister into danger and for breaking the boundaries that you and mother set."

"You, who faced down a wolf, were afraid of my anger? You fear things in a strange order, my son. Yet I am pleased that you yet revere me enough to fear my discipline. And this I have to say about your conduct in the woods: You did not flout the boundaries that your mother and I have set out of mischief or rebellion. You sought to restrain your younger sister and to bring her home safely. I cannot be grieved at this in the slightest, my son."

Canyo looked up in surprise. His father wore a smile rather than an expression of sternness. "I am told you carry a trophy of your encounter with the beast. May I see it?"

Canyo nodded and pulled from the pouch the wolf tooth and handed it to his father. Nolmo held it up to the stars and examined it. Then shuddering he lowered his hand. His grey eyes were glassy with tears, which he blinked away. He pulled from his own pouch several chords of leather woven together forming a necklace. Humming deeply and thoughtfully to himself he drove a small metal eyelet into the base of the tooth and, placing a simple woodland adhesive with it, the two set into one piece. Then he threaded the tooth onto the leather chord. He placed the necklace over his son's head and clasped it behind his neck.

"You should wear this now—and proudly. You have earned this tooth. Yet my heart leaps sickeningly when I think of the wolf and what it might have done to you. It is for this reason precisely that you and Nellë should not stray far from the people. For though I believe the Great Shadow has passed away, there are as yet many other creatures in these lands who would do harm to the Elves given the chance. I would impress this upon you with gravity as the moral to be learned from this perilous encounter." He indicated the tooth necklace as a visual reminder.

"And I expect that you should likewise impress it most heavily upon your little sister. She is still young, only a whip of the beautiful willow she will grow to be, and she needs your guidance and protection."

"I am however very proud of your actions against the wolf. Many children would have fled and been slain or devoured. Yet you withstood its evil and ferocity. Your sister told me all. How you struck it and how you warned it proudly. Tell me though, son, what would you have done if the wolf had persisted in its attack?"

The spark within Canyo answered for him, "I would have killed it, father."

Nolmo's eyes flashed in surprise. "Would you have indeed, my son?"

Canyo nodded, "It was threatening Nellë. If I had to I would have clubbed in its skull. It was a wicked creature and deserved to die!"

Nolmo looked long and hard at his firstborn. Now he too saw the change that had been wrought within his child and he was both proud of the change and yet not entirely pleased with it. It seemed to him that the fire within his boy ran hot and wild and could easily burn all lest it was directed.

"Son, you are very brave and very proud. And I am grateful to Eru Illuvatar that you are, for it has brought both your sister and you home to me. Yet I am concerned of the wrath that still simmers within you. Violence is not a path for which the Firstborn were designed to tread, though I fear before the world's end we shall all be the doers of violent acts. And to kill another in wrath or to wish another's death in hate is a dark path indeed. Shun these thoughts in your heart, son. And flee the temptation and power they offer you. Certainly you should do what must be done when peril strikes and defend those who cannot defend themselves. But do not harbor dark enmity in your heart and let not your spirit indulge in hate and the love of violence. For if you do, it will draw you ever down a road that leads closer to the Great Shadow, and farther from your kin and me. Do you understand?"

Canyo nodded slowly and gravely. But in truth these were heavy words and he did not fully know what they meant. And he would often ponder them in the ages to come ever seeking the truth behind his father's words.

"Very well. We have let the horses have their fill. Let us return and rest. For soon we shall leave this place forever and follow Oromë on the Great Journey into the utter West."

They stood and together led the horses back towards the houses of the Elves.

11


	3. Chapter 2: Nirnaeth

**Chapter 2: N****í****rnaeth**

The Great Stars seemed to shine even brighter than was normal as thousands of elves gathered together on the rolling hills west of Cuiviénen. They seemed to smile down in their celestial joy upon the soon to be pilgrims as if in blessing of their endeavor of faith. Pale banners of every sort fluttered lightly in the starry breeze. Each clan and each family flew their own colors. There was immense pride among those standing on the gentle green rolling knolls and they wished to show all of their kin that they too were brave and respectful of the Valars' invitation.

They built no carriages or platforms. They carried no tents or shelters of any sort. Only horses accompanied the Elves, standing strong and proud next to their respective riders. All the people carried with them were garments, travelling bread, water skins, and a few family heirlooms that could not be forsaken to the Avari—all their kin who were unwilling to come. They would forage for fruits and roots along the way. If meat was required they would hunt or rely upon the great skill of Oromë to supply them. This journey was not about taking the old with them. It was not a journey of settling or sightseeing. This was a journey into the unknown. There was a tension in the air—strange among the Firstborn who were usually relaxed and at ease. Excitement and hope swirled among them in an eddy that they all felt and was amplified by one another. But also there was apprehension and uncertainty—especially among those that were doubtful of this course or who had only barely been persuaded to embark on the Great Journey.

All were waiting for Oromë to return. He had ventured some ways ahead to scout the road that the great companies of the Elves would take upon the first leg of their journey westwards. The Elves stood—mostly silent. They spoke in whispers or sang softly so that only those immediately next to them could hear. Their horses whinnied and stamped eagerly and restlessly. The sense of awaiting and expectation was building as a strong flood against a dam.

Canyo stood with his family gazing towards the two distant hills that marked the western marches of the Elves. None save the ambassadors had ventured between their rolling slopes. They were the _Ando Ambonnar_, the Gate Hills. To travel betwixt them was a mark of permanence in his young mind. Whatever came afterwards—he could not come back to this valley and to these waters and make things as they were. The current of the river of time was sweeping him rapidly forwards. Whither it was taking him he could not guess for certain but he knew that he must surrender to its pull and flow.

He looked to his father who held Nellë aloft upon his shoulders so that she could peer and point over the tops of the heads of the Elves. She giggled anytime their banner fluttered against her and she sang louder and more freely than any of the elves gathered and those who heard her sweet voice felt their spirits lifted in hope and expectation.

Beside them his mother stood tending the horse and fiddling with her hunting bow. She was tall and beautiful—her hair a shimmering white the same as Nellë's and his. She was skilled at anything to which she laid her hand—archery, weaving, dancing, metalwork, and more. She was already ancient and learned. And anytime he saw his father look upon her he knew that his parents loved one another deeper than the deepest parts of Cuiviénen and its inland sea. They were well matched indeed. His gentle wisdom and consistent pursuit of knowledge and lore balanced out her tendency to stray from one task or interest to another. And her passion and wide range of skills complimented his narrow pursuits and at times stoic demeanor. She looked across Nolmo and Nellë to him and smiled but said nothing. Her gaze soon returned across the valley to the _Ando Ambonnar_.

Just when the tension was mounting to an emotional boil, from behind the northern Gate Hill strode Oromë. He was bright and dazzling as ever but he looked rugged—his great arms were bare and covered in even more earth than last Canyo had seen him. His hair was unkempt and flustered from the wind sweeping it to and fro. He smelt of wood and smoke and the wilderness beyond their valley. His feet were dirty and the hem of his cloak was wet. Yet all of this wildness did not dim him or make him seem less lordly. For traveling was his great love. Running over hill and stream, under rock and tree were where his heart truly lay. He appeared exactly as was his nature—a powerful Lord of the West marked forever by the signs of his heart and his nature.

He paused a moment and took stock of all the Elves who stood before him. There was great love and pride in his gaze. He stepped lightly up the south Hill Gate and stood their above the companies and families of the Elves. They were in his charge now and under his protection from this moment until they stood by the shores of the sea. After that others would guide them. The weight of his responsibility weighed upon him and he shouldered it with the strength of his spirit. He would lead them on swiftly then—and not tarry. He knew the hearts of many who stood gazing in awe at him were wavering upon the brink. He must fulfill his word and allay their fears as soon as possible or risk losing even more of the Firstborn.

Then looking at the three ambassadors who stood at the front of their respective folk he smiled. Then he raised his eyes to the masses and addressed them all. "Fair Children, I am honored and overjoyed to see your faces beneath the Stars here in this place. You have shown the Valar great trust and great respect by leaving your homes, your friends, and your families. It may seem to you that you march into the unknown. But fear not, my friends, for the road which we take I have trod many times ere this great journey of ours and I have laid it out with the greatest care. We shall walk by cool waters and through great woods. There will be game and fruits to be shared along the path. You shall not want for anything so long as you follow me faithfully westwards."

Many of those that were apprehensive looked with sudden hope at the Vala.

"It is not the easiest course that I have chosen, but it is the swiftest path to the sea. For I would not have you linger in these grey lands where you may yet fall prey to evil that prowls on the edges of our joy." (Canyo swore that Oromë's eyes glanced down to him as he said this) "Nor would I have you give up the promise of a new life among my own people or the joy of making your home in the light and radiance of the Two Trees of my land."

The expressions of hope faded down but remained there. Perhaps the Hunter would prove faithful and all the risks and dread of wickedness come to naught but ashes in their memories—the forgotten bits of foolish fears. Oromë continued, "Therefore we shall travel swiftly across the lands into the West. Do not tarry and do not stray from the road upon which I lead you. We must all come together as one to the far shores so that we may all cross the Sundering Seas together."

He paused to let his directions sink deeply into their minds then he smiled and spread his arms wide to embrace the whole of the Elves in the valley below him. "And now I bless you all. Henceforward you and all your descendents shall be the Eldar. You are the People of the Stars. You are the Firstborn of Eru Illuvatar and you shall see the light Valinor. You shall grow great and mighty and learn the lore and crafts of this world. There will be none in the world fairer or more wondrous than you. Great things will be wrought in the world by your hands and great deeds done by your will. And I bless this journey as well. Move your feet swiftly and fear nothing along our road. Follow my heels and you shall be among the first to see Aman. Now come! Follow whither I go, for now the Great Journey of the Eldar has begun!" With these words he stepped down the hill and began to walk away between the Gate Hills. He turned and extending his hand to the three Elf lords standing at the front. They smiled and began to lead their own peoples forward after the great Vala.

The tension finally broke and the excitement spilled over the dam. The Elves moved forward eagerly as one flowing between the _Ando Ambonnar_. The whispered songs were suddenly lifted up in delight to join the glowing voice of Nellë who had squealed and resumed singing the moment she saw Elwë begin. Her fears seemed to have disappeared under the excitement of traveling. Cheers came from all sides. Horses pranced gleefully ahead. From around the hill Oromë's horn blew and the Eldar gave a great shout that rang among all the hills of Cuiviénen. His father and mother held hands as they began to walk slowly between the Gate Hlls. Canyo could not help but feel giddy with the rush of the journey. He was deeply aware of the joy and elation all around him and it amplified the emotions within him radiating it back out to all those in his vicinity. _Perhaps going to Aman would not be so bad_. He mused. _Perhaps there truly was nothing of interest for the Elves here in this middle earth. Perhaps my true destiny does indeed lie across the sea!_

With a rush of energy and joy he leapt up on to the back of his family's horse. He reached onto his father's shoulders and lifted Nellë onto their steed in front of him. She squealed and pointed every which way with excitement at any new thing that happened by them. The stars shimmered down upon them in a never ending song of blessing. The people of the Stars were going over the sea—and Canyo was glad to be among them.

* * *

The intense joy and elation did not last long however. Once the densely packed company of Elves passed out of the winding valleys of the hills to the west of Cuiviénen, they spread out onto a great expanse of plains and forest land. After the first rest and dreaming the Eldar had already spread into an enormous caravan spread over more than a league of grassy plateau. Oromë led them on, sounding his great horn whenever he moved forward. But to those who were in the rear of the company the blasts from his horn sounded much fainter than it had when at first they had set out. And with each new blast it grew increasingly more distant until at last the horn of the great Hunter was beyond the keen ears of the Elves in the back. These were mainly those that had been unsure of the journey to begin with. They were also much of Canyo's folk.

But these were left in the back not due to reluctance like the others but simply from wonder. None of them had set foot beyond the woods and hills of their birth-land. Every rock and tree was new. The feel of the grass and the sound of the wind rustling among the reeds were like fresh songs to their hearts that called to them as they passed. The birds were different birds and sang different songs. They came across strange tracks of unknown animals. Some of these they met and gave names. Others they only hoped to encounter.

Little Nellë was nearly beside herself with curiosity and joy. She would scamper from end to end of her clan talking to every dragonfly, singing with every bird of the air, and chasing everything that walked or crawled in their midst begging it to be her friend. Canyo mainly watched her doings and made sure she stayed within the bounds of the people. But he too was awed by the space. He had never imagined something as vast and spacious as these plains. Even Nolmo, who longed for Aman seemed very enamored with the new surroundings. His mother often moved ahead or to the side wandering and gathering food. Each time the company stopped she hunted with a few others to bring them game to share. She always brought back the most food of any and after each venture she told Nellë and Canyo what she had seen. Both of them listened with eager ears and open minds to the stories of their mother of the strange and wonderful lands and animals that were all about them.

Yet within the space of a handful of marches the Eldar became sparse and spread thin over many leagues. They mainly followed the footsteps of the company in front of them, trusting that they in turn were following those that were in front of them and so on to the front of the line where Oromë strode leading them ever closer to the sea.

Soon the land began to rise again in rolling hills and in the distance they saw ahead enormous mountains. They had seen mountains before but none like those that lay ahead. The ones they knew from home were ancient and stained red, rising in many small but hard summits-the Orocarni. But the ones ahead were gargantuan and disappeared into clouds of mist under the half veiled stars. The pale silver of snowy crowns shone near the tops of the peaks where the mists did not obscure them. They were strange and enormous. And it was upon the first rest after they appeared that Canyo noticed that many families in the far rear were not following them. On a rise he looked back and saw them moving slowly to the north—coming no nearer to the vast range of peaks but trying to find a way around them he supposed or take refuge in the immense green forest that was in that same direction. His heart sank slightly. The company was breaking up in an unfixable way. He was not entirely sure why they had decided to leave. But he feared that they were not the last to do so.

His fears proved all too accurate. As they drew nearer and nearer to the mountains more and more families fell behind and turned aside. At each rest Canyo sat with his father as he fiercely attempted to persuade the stragglers to stay and see the Journey through to its end. Yet not even the fierce passion and wise words of his father could dissuade everyone from abandoning the pilgrimage westwards. Many saw the intimidating mountains and in their hearts regretted leaving at all. And no words or logic could make any change in their hearts which were set upon that which was past.

Many were homesick for Cuiviénen, and though they hardly knew the road back they left to attempt it. Others had no inkling of the way back but the sight and presence of the mountains filled them with dread and they refused to cross them—no matter who led them. These left away northwards—following after those that had already left that direction. With each departure Canyo saw sadness and a weight settle on his father.

Yet they passed to the south of the immense misty peaks, their great forms seemed to peer down upon the passing line of Elves in suspicion. But they soon were past the range and were out on plains and immense forests once more. In only a few marches Canyo and his sister could catch glimpses from the tops of trees of yet another line of mountains in the distance. These were just as large as the ones by which they had recently passed, but rather than ominous mists, these seemed to shine and glow with a blue light. Few remained that wished to turn back at the sight of this second range of mountains. Yet a few more left as one, disappearing into the trees. Canyo realized that his company was now in the far rear of all the Eldar. Nolmo noticed this as well. The choices of all who left, many of whom were his friends and companions, weighed upon him heavily. His already grim demeanor became short and irritable. He walked alone most of the time allowing only his wife to join him when he was in a dark and depressed mind.

For this reason Canyo began to spend more time walking with Nowë. Nowë was silent much of the time but Canyo liked that. There was much they spoke together without words getting in the way. Both of them were greatly impressed by all of the new things that they saw as they marched. Both were still the tiniest bit apprehensive—the departures of their kin, the spread-out nature of the companies, and the unknown of Valinor kept them on their toes and prevented either from completely relaxing. But they kept one another strong and optimistic as they moved closer to the wall of the mountains. They indeed hoped for the best but were increasingly unsure of what would happen. There were too many unknowns occurring together for either to be certain or settled about their circumstances.

When they did speak it was about new things or some creature that Nellë had run by to show them. Nowë made Canyo give him a full account of the encounter with the wolf and praised his bravery. Yet they never discussed their premonitions or fears. All was simply said in their hearts and eyes. And despite the great age difference between the two, they were soon companions. Nowë saw in the boy elf the makings of great wisdom and Canyo saw in the older elf someone who understood things the way he did and was not fooled by ill counsel or false show.

They walked together when the Elves began their march over the Blue Mountains. Oromë had found a pass through them. Yet it was bitterly cold and snow fell all about the traveling companies. The Elves had never endured such before. They wrapped their cloaks and garments about them and walked close to one another. But Canyo found that the air made him feel alive and that he could see farther than ever he could before in the mountain air. His feet found their way better than his kin and he hoped that the mountains in Valinor were akin to the ones that he now traversed.

He often carried his little sister through the deeper drifts, stepping lightly over the packed mountain snow. She seemed unsure and fearful of the change in the environment, but when she sensed how much her brother loved the huge towering pinnacles and the cutting chill air she relaxed against his back and soon was laughing and playing as usual. The two of them were an encouragement to any who struggled under the steep rocks and shivered in the howling gusts that swirled through the companies now and again. But they all endured and once in the mountains no more elves turned back or to the side. The elves committed themselves at last to the journey. And soon they came across the mountain passes and out of the freezing high airs and the road began to dip once more.

They came on the far side to a pinnacle ledge with a clear view beyond the mountains into the regions hence, which was set just off of the path. Many elves stopped on it to view out into the new lands. Canyo and Nowë joined a few and cast their gaze down into the regions which spread out beneath them. They were on the western flanks now of the Blue Mountains. Below them lay an enormous stretch of green forested land—lush with rivers and mountains. And far off on the horizon under the line of stars was a faint line of silver that glimmered differently than the stars of the sky did. It was the sea, or so they guessed. Oromë had indeed planned the road carefully so that coming over the hardest part of the journey they would gain a glimpse of the end of their road. Beneath them they saw the whole of the travelling elf company stretching in a meandering trail down the mountain and into the hills and forest at their feet. The line faded into nothingness in the distance—already crossing rivers and over plains. Nellë saw her brother standing off to the side and came over to join them. She sat with her little legs over the lip of the ledge and swung them cheerfully as she looked with glee over the great vista.

"Look, Cannie!" she pointed, "They are so small down there! And it is so big! It's all so big!"

"Yes! And look, Nellë—far out there along the horizon. Do you see that silver line that shimmers?"

She nodded her head vigorously.

"That is the sea! That is where we are going!"

"Ohh! It's still very far away. Can we fly there like the birds?"

"No. Elves do not fly like the birds of the sky do. But if we hurry we may arrive there hardly later than they who have wings would."

"Okay! Let's go right now!" She leapt up and took his hand and led him forcefully away back to the path. Nowë smiled and followed after the two young elves. They were all filled with hope and joy and desire to catch up with their kin so far ahead on the Journey. They rejoined the march and together they clambered down with the others of their clan eagerly into the lands waiting below.

* * *

During their descent they studied the land that they would pass through on their present march. As the mountains dropped and finally sank their roots into the level and rolling plains below which butted up against the mountains in tall brown rocky hills wrapped with pockets of forest, they espied a great river running north to south with a handful of tributaries feeding into it from various points in the mountains.

Beyond the great river a wide stretch of plains and grasslands sprawled dotted with trees and woodlands. Directly ahead at the edge of their vision, now that they were lower, was an immense dark blotch of a truly great forest—spanning many leagues. _The trees there must truly be enormous and old._ Canyo thought. _What secrets and things could I learn by exploring them? _But a glance from Nowë told him that he knew his mind and that they would not get a chance to explore hardly any of the places before them as they simply passed through on their long trek to the sea.

Soon the wonderful view of the new lands was cut off as their feet carried them into the stony foothills of the Blue Mountains. Canyo's company bent southwards, following a winding path among the vales between hills and skirting the large patches of wild woods of the area. Suddenly a shout came from those in the front of the company.

Canyo followed Nowë and his father towards the front of the group to see what was going on. The two elves that had given the shout greeted them and explained, "We were following the company of Elwë who was just ahead. However they were several leagues ahead of us, but we saw them come into this valley and move through it. Alas, now we can find no trace of their passing. We have by some ill chance gone off of the road that they have taken."

Nolmo's face darkened ever so slightly, but he smiled at the concerned and fearful faces of his folk. "We shall simply have to find them again. We may have gone astray indeed but we cannot have gone very far off Oromë's road." He turned to his son, "Canyo and I will climb this hill and gain a better view and discover if we may see Elwë's group ahead and where the best route will be to rejoin them."

Canyo smiled at being invited to help his father—especially on an important errand. _How had they become so separated from the group ahead that they had become lost? _They clambered lightly up and over the crumbling rock and around the scraggly trees that stood resolute in the thin soil of the hill. As they hiked Nolmo spoke, "Forgive me my son."

Canyo turned quizzically to him, "What have you done that needs forgiving, father?"

"I have been so preoccupied with the families that were leaving that I have neglected you, Canyo. We have already marched across a vast stretch of land and we have spent but a little time together. And though I deeply care and fear for those that left us, I cannot be remiss in my duties as a father. You and your sister are still young by the count of the Eldar and this journey must seem even larger to you than it does to those of greater age. What think you thus far?"

"Everything is large and strange—but it is not frightening or disconcerting. The world is much more beautiful and wild than I ever imagined, father. The plains make me feel incredibly small as do the great mountains we crossed. And the forests that we have passed among and around are fresh and strong but already full of memory. I find that everything we see calls to me. It may not be Cuiviénen but it is good I believe."

"Yes it is indeed good. If we were not already bent on an errand of uttermost importance, I would scoff at those who feared to leave our little domain and would gladly live in many of the places that we have seen and through which we have passed. But that is not our fate, for we are meant to dwell someplace even better than the lands we see here." He paused then continued.

"I am very proud of you. You have endured all of the hardships of travel with less complaining and more joy than some of your elders. You are indeed a hardy one. I am thankful for your resilience, as well as the help and watchful eye you lend to your sister and the others in our group. I also have seen that you walk with Nowë much. I am glad of this. He is my peer and I respect him and weigh his counsel next only to Elwë's. You could not have chosen a better friend."

Canyo smiled at his father's approval. His father was wise and stern sometimes but also gentle and practical. It was important to him that his father support him in what he did and who he deemed his friends. If Nolmo thought that it was good for Canyo to be friends with Nowë then it must certainly be so.

They reached a vantage point next to a tall lone pine tree at the crown of the rocky knoll. Both of them clambered up into its bows and looked out to the west. Immediately their hearts were lifted, for they saw by the great river ahead the line of Elves. But it had ceased and they moved about in camp formation.

"Look! They have halted their march on the east bank of that great river. If we can find a suitable path we may rejoin them if we march through while they rest," Noted Canyo.

"That is true. But I see no plain path for us to reach them. Whatever road they took must be well hidden among the hills between us and them. And to reach them before they move on again we must find a swift route."

"Father, off to the north just slightly the hills end and dip into a small forest. Our people know how to wend their way through the trees. And these hills make most of them uncomfortable. If we can reach those woods we can make nearly a straight line through them in the direction of the river."

"You may be correct, son. Once we come out of the trees we shall have only a short ways on the plain to catch up with the others. Those woods appear little more than a league distant. Let us go down and begin."

They climbed down the tree and stood once more on the knoll. Nolmo moved forward beginning his descent. He noticed that his son was not beside him. He turned and saw Canyo standing still beside the tree they had climbed. His eyes were open but unfocused and Nolmo knew that his son was spread out—feeling the world about him.

"Canyo. What are you doing? We must haste, remember?"

The boy's eyes refocused on his father and then began scanning the hills about them as if searching for something. "I do not like this place, father. There is something fell in these hills. And it is not far off from where our group is."

"I do not sense as much, son. Likely you are only weary and ready to find the safety and companionship of the rest of our folk at the river. It is most unlike you to dislike any land or region and to wish to pass through it quickly."

"Then please, father, trust me. I am still young by the count of the Eldar but I am not the most oblivious nor inexperienced in the matter of encounters with fell things. There is a shadow growing in my mind. I cannot say what it is but I know that we must avoid it at all costs. Let us delay no more and make with extreme speed for the river."

Nolmo studied his boy then nodded his head, "Very well. We shall make with all speed to rejoin Elwë at the river. However we cannot move our entire company quickly through the hills. You will take a small group swiftly forward and bring news to those who rest ahead of us. Then mayhap we shall receive aid from them to securely bring us out of these hills and back into the fold of the Eldar."

"You want me to lead the group?"

"Yes. I can think of no one better. And if what you sense is true then they will have need of you on the quick road you will travel. I have complete faith you, son, to help bring us to safety."

"Thank you, father—I will lead them true and fleet."

They returned down the hill and reported to the group although Nolmo said nothing of Canyo's premonition. Most were glad of the news and approved of their plan. Yet some grumbled and fear was in their eyes. Nolmo could see panic rising and he swiftly moved to calm them. He told them that he would personally lead all those who were reluctant and fearful of these new lands to the river. When he announced this they relented.

The Company then split into two groups as planned—one guided by Nolmo with the vast majority of the company would make for the river with what speed they could. The second smaller group guided by Canyo would make along their chosen path as quick as they could and bring news to those ahead to wait for the others. At the news that the boy, Canyo, would guide the vanguard some gave doubtful looks. But a stern word from his father and a fierce look from the boy silenced the naysayers in short order.

Nolmo sent Nowë with Canyo as well as Nellë. "Listen to my friend, son. He is wise and sees much. I know that you already do this but remember it well as you go. And your little sister is now in your charge, so keep her close and stay to the course we have agreed upon. This small company is relying upon you to bring them to our kin by the river."

"I know, father. I will not let them down…or you."

"I have no doubt of that son." He bent down and spoke into his son's ear, "When I see you again by the river there is something that I want to give to you and to tell you."

Canyo looked into his father's amber eyes with curiosity. "What is it?"

Nolmo smiled, "You will see, my wise son. Now go. And farewell until we meet again." He bent down and kissed the top of Canyo's head and then went to gather those in his group. Canyo quickly bid farewell to those who would remain in his father's care—the few acquaintances he made during their journey west. He met his mother to take leave of her and she smiled her queenly smile. But in her eyes she was concerned and tense. Canyo spoke calm words of assurance to her and spoke words of loving farewell. Then he went to find Nowë and looking back he saw his mother pull his father to him and whisper fiercely to him. He spoke something to her and placed his hand on her flushed cheek. It appeared he was wiping shining tears from her eyes. Then he embraced her in a kiss and Canyo turned away. He quickly joined Nowë and together they gathered their group and departed at a quick pace through the hills towards the woods. Canyo looked back at his father who now stood on a stony ledge overlooking the people. He raised his hand in farewell then pushed it out as if to encourage him to lead onwards. Canyo turned away from his father and smiling led his group around a corner and out of sight.

* * *

The path that Nolmo and he had chosen was indeed swift—at least for a small group as theirs was, numbering only a score of elves. To reach the point where the hills ended early they had to wend their way single file through several narrow ravines and ford a rapidly flowing mountain stream by swinging on limber branches that overhung the water. It would take Nolmo a significant more amount of time to move the few hundred in his charge through this labyrinth.

But in the course of a few hours Canyo had managed to find the edge of the forest they had earlier espied and eagerly they left the shadows and cramped spaces of the hills for the comfort of the trees. The trees were only a few leagues long and the elves moved through them at a great pace. They had gone halfway through when both Canyo and Nowë felt something ahead.

They called for a halt and the two stepped forward a ways. "Something is coming our way through the trees," Canyo whispered pointing ahead into the shadows.

"You can sense it too?"

"I can feel it," he said nodding, "It is coming from ahead of us in that direction to the right."

"We should conceal ourselves in case they are unfriendly eyes that approach," Nowë advised.

"No. It is most likely only our kinsmen returning for us." Canyo said thinking of his father's earlier words.

"I agree, but we do not know that for certain. We are far from home and from the protection of our friends. We must not take chances here in the wild."

Canyo opened his mouth to speak more but then remembered his father's words and his premonition upon the hill. His sense of foreboding had grown deeper as they had progressed so he simply nodded his head. He would trust the older elf. Nowë motioned to the rest and in a blink they had all found hiding places among the brush and in the trees.

A few moments later two dark haired elves emerged out of the trees and moved under them. They were Finwë's folk, a man and a woman. They seemed concerned and in a hurry. Smiling and laughing Nowë swung down from the tree in which he and Canyo had been hiding.

"Greetings fellow brother and sister!" he said with open arms, "You do realize that if it is the sea you seek you are traveling in the wrong direction?"

The two gave thin smiles and each embraced Nowë in turn. The woman spoke introducing herself and her companion, "I am Braigwen and this is my husband Camceleg. When Finwë and Elwë became aware that your entire company had disappeared they grew fearful of your safety and direction. We have heard strange cries off to the north and a brooding presence as well. They sent us back to find you and guide you safely back to our people. What has happened to the rest of your group? Why did you leave the route?"

Nowë's expression became serious at this news and he replied, "We did not intend to stray. Those who were in the front of our company lost sight of those ahead and accidentally led us off the route into the hills behind us. Young Canyo here and his father Nolmo scouted the quickest path to rejoin you. We have journeyed swift to bring you news of our company. Nolmo follows us with the rest of our group."

"That is well," Camceleg spoke up, "We must hurry back. Braigwen will remain with you and I shall journey on to find Nolmo and help him. We must all return as swiftly as we may back to the main host of our people."

"My husband is right. A shadow is growing in this area. My heart is troubled by some unseen danger. We cannot linger in these woods or in the hills behind us."

At her words Canyo focused outwards and instantly became aware of something wrong. Something was very wrong. He stepped back from the three speaking and looked back at his group. Nellë came over to him and he bent down and hugged her.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"We are going to hurry to meet all the others by the river."

"But why are we waiting? I'm scared Cannie."

"Why are you scared?"

"I don't know. I just want Mama and Pap-" She stopped as if noticing something. Her eyes grew huge with fright and sorrow. "Where are they? Where are they, Cannie?"

"They are back with the rest of our friends coming in the hills

, they-" but he too stopped short. He saw over the tops of the trees—silhouetted against the stars something that made his heart stop. Black smoke was rising—rising over the hills that they had left behind—over the hills where his father and mother and the rest of his company was! And then out of the darkness there came a terrible roar that echoed from the hills. It was huge and horrible—a thunder of hate and rage rolled into a fiery cry that echoed and hissed down into the forest to the ears of the elves.

"Fire! Monster!" he called to the three speaking. They whirled about at his words and at the roar from behind them. Their faces immediately darkened in fear and consternation.

"No." Nowë whispered. Fearing the worst the three elves sprang back into the trees—many of the rest of the twenty followed to see as well. Canyo moved to do the same, but Nellë clutched at him. "Don't leave me. I'm frightened!"

"I have to go see what is going on!"

"No. Don't go!"

"Nellë, I have to."

"No!" she clung to him with a fear that did not make sense to him but made his premonitions all that much worse.

Then from above in the trees there came cries of anguish and terror. The elves dropped to the ground. Nowë landed and crouched on all fours in tears.

"What is it? What has happened?" Canyo asked desperately. But Nowë only looked up at him with eyes shot already red with tears and sorrow.

Camceleg swung down solemn and angry. He came swiftly over to Canyo. He looked at Nellë then bent and whispered into Canyo's ear. It was as if Camceleg's words were not a whisper but a hammer that sent Canyo to his knees. The world spun and his heart felt like a weight. All else in him was empty._ His father and mother were dead? That could not be right. They must have made a mistake!_

He looked to Nowë who was still rocking back in forth on his knees. And then he knew that it was true. He grabbed Nellë tightly and held her to him as if she were all that he had left. She _was_ all he had left. A yawning abyss gaped before him and he wavered on the pinnacle. But his sister was crying against him and she did not even know why yet. He could not succumb to the darkness before him.

His eyes filled with tears he looked at Braigwen who had come down last, "What happened?" his voice choked.

Her eyes showed a deep compassion but a brutal honesty too. "They were attacked—by dark and evil things for which I have no name. There was fire and blood everywhere. And it was only by the flames that I was able to see clearly. They did…terrible things to your people."

The abyss before him suddenly filled with a fire. It was something new—like the spark in him but a million times hotter and more powerful. "What did they do to my parents?" he demanded.

"I do not think that I should tell y-"

"What did they do to my parents?!" he shouted as loud as he could.

She looked at him and sighed. She gave a look at Nellë clinging to him with silent tears streaming down her face. He covered her ears and she told him. "They tied her to a log and burned her alive piercing her with the arrows of her own bow. And your father they beat and broke him and tore him to pieces and fed him to a great wolf…I am so sorry, Canyo"

Canyo's hand shot to the tooth at his neck. He was blind with rage and hate. They came from somewhere deep in his being—merging with him so that all he could think and see was bringing down wrath and destruction upon all of them.

But first he had to protect his sister. She was trembling against him—wracked by grief and fear from the wrath that was hot in her brother. But Canyo payed no heed to anything. His mind was incredibly focused upon the task at hand. They had to reach the safety of the river and the others. He stood up holding Nellë who was quaking and sobbing. Both Braigweg and Camceleg looked at him—looked into his eyes and they nodded. Somehow they understood the inferno that was in him. They called to the others, "Hurry! We must fly! Flee the shadows that attacked your people. Haste to the river now!"

But no sooner had they managed to pull the grieving elves to their feet than a great howl went up in the woods around them. Horrible squeals and cackles accompanied it. And shadows heavy and evil hung about them like a curtain of death. Again there was a tremendous roar! It was much closer than the first time the elves had heard it. It split the air and fear spiked momentarily through the fierce wrath in Canyo but faded quickly. But the others seemed paralyzed and rooted in horror, staring back and all around into the woods at the terrible voices that emanating from the dark. Canyo shouted to them, "Fly! Fly now! They are near!"

He turned with Nellë in his arms to race onwards and ran headlong into a monster. He bounced back. The creature looked at first like an elf—it walked on two feet and had arms a head and pointed ears. But its skin was filthy and wrinkled—stretched taut in places and folded over in others. Its teeth were yellow and broken. Nails protruded like claws from its fingers. It wore scraps of leather shoddily sewn together. Its hair was black and pulled back into one long braid. Its yellow eyes glowed menacingly at the boy. It laughed mirthlessly and held up a knife—or what seemed to be one but much longer.

It swung it with great force at them. Canyo leapt aside only to leap again as the creature tried to cut him and his sister in two with the blade. Behind him more of the horrible creatures came out of the forest and attacked. All was chaos. There was smoke drifting through the trees now. The forest was ablaze and there was a rhythmic thud of some enormous entity marching towards the clearing where the elves were besieged.

Nowë swung a branch and knocked two of his assailants aside. He leapt over their dazed forms and ran towards Canyo. But a net was cast over him and he fell writhing to the ground. Harsh kicks hammered him from both sides and he could taste blood in his mouth. An evil face loomed over him with a wicked looking knife. It grinned and let the foul air from its throat drift over him—a nauseating stench of rotting meat made him gag. The evil creature raised its blade and made to bring it down into the helpless elf. Then from the side it was tackled and thrown to the ground. Camceleg held it to the ground and Braigweg, armed with a large stone, leapt on it and crushed its head.

Quickly they freed him, picked him up limping, and guided him away. Then he remembered. _Canyo!_ He whirled around out of their grasp and limped back through the trees. The boy was spinning wildly in circles fending off a dozen of the monsters with a stick—he held his sister whimpering over his shoulder.

But he had not gone but a few paces when the dark-haired elves seized him again and began to drag him away into the woods. He fought back, yanking and tearing at their clothes. "I cannot leave him!" he cried, "Canyo! Canyo! Unhand me! We must rescue the children!"

"It is too late, brother! We must escape now or none shall at all!" Camceleg insisted as he looped his arms around Nowë's shoulders.

"No! He is my friend and the son of my slain friend!" Nowë kicked hard, shoving Braigwen away. He fell backwards on top of Camceleg and hit him in the face with his elbow. The elf let go of him and he rolled to his side and crawled forward under the ferns back to the clearing. He saw more of the creatures surrounding the boy and his sister. The handful of the other elves lay dead about the clearing. Three were trussed with bonds and already hung in a tree upside down. The rest were fled into the dark of the forest. Only the young elf and his sister remained. He was fierce but heavily out-numbered. And the footsteps of the creature of thunder and fire were very near—the whole ground shook and the forest choked on the fumes.

He crouched behind trees and passed from one to the next crawling for his injured leg. He did not know what he could do but he would not abandon either of them. Canyo managed to fell three of his attackers with swift and strong strikes from the branch he wielded. But the creatures grew wise and came at him at once and he was overwhelmed.

They ripped the branch from his grasp and kicked him cruelly. He covered the body of his sister and attempted to shield her from the many iron shod feet and clawed hands that pummeled him. Nowë's heart stopped and broke. They picked both of them up and tried to wrench them apart from one another. Nellë was screaming her brother's name and he growled and cried out against the monsters as they hit him and tried to rip his grip from his sister. But he held on no matter how they hit him or how violently they yanked at him.

Nowë was nearly to the gathered creatures when an immense growl emanated from the forest opposite and a huge and terrible wolf approached. The creatures parted in fear leaving only two that held the boy and the girl aloft—offering them to the beast. The older elf could not abide it any longer and crying out as fiercely as he could he grabbed two large branches and ran despite the horrible pain in his leg towards his friend. The creatures turned and laughed then came at him brandishing their long blades. But he put it to them swinging fiercely and wildly. He knocked several aside and was nigh to reaching Canyo who was shouting something to him when from the edge of his vision a large fell creature came suddenly and struck him across the head with the grip of its long knife. Darkness took him and he knew no more.

"Nowë, no! Go back! Flee! Run! Run!" Canyo shouted at his friend as he foolishy charged headlong into the throng of wicked creatures. He fought wildly but a large wicked warrior came from his side and knocked him unconscious to the needle strewn floor. All was a bloody and painful mess undermined by the roar of the approaching monster and the hot foul breath of the wolf salivating before him. But he paid it no mind as he continued to cling to his sister and twisted to look at his fallen friend.

They kicked him and bound him and beat him more laughing and spitting upon him. They yelled foul words that Canyo did not understand. They were all harsh and hateful. Then they threw a sack over Nowë's head and two of them began to drag him off into the forest one of them carrying a heavy wicked axe.

"Nowë! No! Let him be! Let him go!" But one of the creatures that held him cursed at him and slapped him across the face. Canyo opened his swollen eye and found that the wolf was leaning in closer just inches from him and his sister. Its fiery and dark eyes bore into him with malice and hate unsatisfied. It opened its terrible maw dripping with spittle and blood. There was a tooth missing from its upper jaw. Then it spoke in a deep and horrible voice.

"I told you, foolish elf pup, that we would meet again. And now you will pay for your arrogance and your hurt to me. You wear my tooth like a conqueror. But here you are carried and trapped like a deer among wolves."

"Do what you will, wicked whelp. You shall not have the pleasure of begging or fear from me."

The beast laughed. "Not from you, eh? No. You are too stubborn and fiery for that—for now. But what of the little girl? I can think of many sporting things that I could do to her—slowly and harshly."

"If you touch her I will kill you!" Nellë whimpered into him and dug her nails into his sides. He was blind with hate and rage for all of them. He wanted to drown them in their own blood and burn what was left. They had killed his family and friends. They would soon kill his best companion if they had not already. And he would soon die with his sister he knew but he nonetheless burned to destroy as many of them as he could.

"Will you now, insolent pup?" The great wolf growled and opened its jaws wide and bit like iron upon the elf children. Teeth came down between them and pierced his arms and sides. Nellë screamed again and again. Canyo felt himself being torn from his sister and he cried in anguish and rage. He bit the snout of the wolf with his teeth and pulled back tasting its blood in his mouth but it was in vain.

His fingers and hands slipped from her and he felt himself flying through the air. He landed badly on his shoulder in the dirt. His clothes were torn and his body bruised, cut, and battered. Blood and dirt caked his white hair. He moved and every part of him ached and burned. He crawled up onto his hands and knees only to have a club brought down upon his back. The wind whooshed from his lungs and he slammed back into the ground gasping. He felt strong terrible hands grab his own and bind him. A bloodstained cloth was tied into his mouth.

He looked wildly for his sister. She suffered the same fate. Her eyes were wide with fear and tears streaked through the dirt and mud on her angelic face. Anguish for her filled him and drowned the rage. He had failed. He had failed everyone. His father had trusted him and now all was lost. They were all dead and they would all die because of him. And his precious little sister, who was sweet and innocent beyond reckoning, was suffering before his eyes.

Then he felt it. The presence. The great monster. It had arrived. He suddenly did not wish to gaze upon it. Its shadow and presence swirled behind him. Smoke filled the air. Heat unlike anything he could imagine—hotter than the furnaces of the Elves burned behind him. He felt its hate and its rage like a mountain of fire coming against him. It loathed him to the black core of its being and it had power beyond just a creature—beyond the twisted elf-creatures and the wolf. The monster was a spirit like Oromë though twisted and burned until it was but a fiery shadow compared to the Great Hunter. But Oromë was far off unaware and leading the others to the sea. There was no help for Canyo. There was no rescue.

He felt his eyes torn involuntarily from his sister and he turned his head slowly. At first it seemed that there was only darkness. But the darkness swirled and caught fire and took shape into the form of a great beast as tall as a Vala with a skull-like head and a terrible maw and two curved horns upon either side. Immense powerful arms and legs carried the darkness and did its evil deeds. It seemed that great wings of ash and shadow lifted behind him to blot out the stars in the sky. It burned within, glowing out of its eyes and mouth and flames raged in and out of its skin and down its back in a mane of flames. A wicked tail twitched behind it as if waiting for some moment of evil pleasure. It roared once more and this time its horrid cry filled Canyo's mind and made his spirit quake within him. All thoughts of bravery seemed to shrivel to ash as the voice burned and thundered about him. It echoed over and over again inside of him telling him of his defeat and of the pain his people suffered. When at last it ended he felt wasted, violated, and weary. All of the other fell creatures fell back in fear and respect. Even the wolf backed away, its hair bristling.

Then it spoke. It spoke not so much with a voice but with a thought—a terrible thought from its dark and burning soul that forced itself into Canyo's mind like a blade between the ribs. _Take these now, as your brothers. _It motioned to the elves hanging captive. _Make them family. Teach them the ways of our house._ The wolf laughed low and cruel and a few of the creatures scurried to the captives and they brought them down and began to haul them away. Some came to Canyo and his sister and also began taking them after the others.

_Halt! _The beast of fire said. _Bring those two—the little ones—to me._ The creatures hurried to obey. They drug both of them and threw them at the creature's feet. It towered over them and the heat from it singed their clothing and hair. It bent low over them putting its demonic face—hazy and wavering from the heat within it close to them. Though it had no eyes within its fiery sockets Canyo felt it looking at him—into him. He wanted to hide. But there was nowhere that could hide him from the beast's gaze. He was helpless and naked before a creature of hate and fire.

It stood and spoke to the wolf. _This is the one of which you spoke to me?_ The wolf bowed and nodded. The beast growled deeply rumbling Canyo's insides to nausea. Then the beast addressed Canyo, which was worse than ever—its dark words bored into him specifically.

_Hail weak and worthless Elfling. I am Naur-Oroth. I serve the true master of this world, Melkor, mightiest of the Valar. The tales you have heard about him are doubtless lies concocted by the usurpers across the sea. He is the Lord of all and the shaper of all things. Serve him and you shall have a hand in ruling all things. You have a fire within you, little worm, and under the care of Melkor it will grow to a burning fire like my own and you shall be great and terrible—knowing and doing many things that others know not and attempt not. Kneel before me and pledge yourself to Melkor and to my care and you shall be greatly rewarded._

The gag fell from his mouth and he felt free to think. The words echoed in Canyo and he felt the promise of knowing the secrets of the world and of being a great hunter or even a warrior someday. Was this not what he desired? But from deep within him he knew that they were lies. The proud and penetrating words of the Naur-Oroth were not but ash in his mouth—tossed to the wind at a moment's notice. But the temptation to grow mighty and save his sister and to in time betray them and destroy them all with the very power they had given him swirled up within him and filled him with doubt and confusion. His young soul was in anguish and upon the brink of darkness.

Canyo pitched forward and retched—vomiting violently onto the clawed feet of Naur-Oroth. It hissed and boiled and smelled awful. But the spark inside of him was still there—small but alive. Canyo wiped his mouth on his ruined tunic and croaked up at the demon defiantly, "Never. You speak with promises of power and secrets. But you cannot hide your soul or your nature from me, fire-spirit. You lie as if it were your native tongue."

_You speak boldly for one so small and weak. You shall be of great use. For by your will or not you shall serve Melkor when he returns from exile. I will break you one way or another and you shall fall under his great shadow._ The wings of the beast swirled over him and all was dark but for its face. _And now your education under the Great Master begins._

It stood and picked up Nellë, who had been silent and nearly insane with fear the whole time they were speaking. But the touch of its clawed hand burned her and she screamed for her brother, "Cannie! Help me! Don't let him hurt me! Cannie! Please! Let me go!"

Canyo screamed in horror and wrath! He leapt to his feet and strained against his bonds—the ones on his feet snapped apart and he leapt over his tied hands and raced after the demon. The creatures tackled him though. He fiercely kicked them, hearing their jaws and ribs crack. He crawled after Naur-Oroth screaming, "Nellë! I'm coming, Nellë! It's going to be alright!"

The demon pushed her against a tree and fiery cords shot from its hand and bound her to it. She cried in pain and Cannie limped forward brandishing a stick in his tied hands. More creatures came at him and he struck them back viciously but then came the wolf and bore him over. It pinned him to the ground and he could barely breathe. The branch was just out of reach, his fingers scrabbling in the dirt after its tip. The wolf growled and drooled on his hair but he wriggled nonetheless under its paw.

_Pupil! _Naur-Oroth's voice demanded his attention. He stopped reaching for the stick and looked at the demon. _This elf-worm is precious to you more than aught else. So it is fitting that your journey towards Melkor begins with suffering and loss. _ It produced deep from its shadow a knife—though it was longer than Canyo. It was a great hacking blade that glowed and burned with flames from the touch of the fiery spirit.

Canyo's eyes went to the blade and to his sister and back to Naur-Oroth. They were wide with fear and hate at once. If it was possible to twist its face into a horrid grin then the demon did so. It raised its blade high in the air.

Canyo looked back into his sister's eyes wide and terrified. "Nellë! It's going to be alright. Look at me. I love you, sister. It's going to be alright. I would never let anything happen to you. Just hold on a little more." Then he looked at the demon with its fiery knife poised among the smoking branches. "Don't do this thing. Please! I beg of you. I will come with you and serve your master. I will do whatever you ask of me. Just do not harm her anymore. Let her go. You have the power. Just let her go."

Naur-Oroth stood staring into the boy's eyes with its hard and emotionless glowing pits—empty of love or empathy. _You will indeed serve us, little worm!_ Then with a roar it swung the blade down against the tree and Nellë. Canyo screamed from the depths of his spirit in agony and anguish. There was a flash of fire and the sound of the tree cracking—sap hissed and boiled and the tree caught fire—the smoke and the shadow of the demon obscured everything. Canyo felt empty and mad—his mind numb and falling over the edge into the abyss that had waited for him.

He barely noticed that all around the forest was groaning and creaking in wrath. The trees swayed violently and whipped their branches back and forth. Then a great cry went up in the area. And another answered. They were not the roars of beasts or demons but of something entirely alien. From the shadows burst a large tree—walking on two trunks and with two great branches for arms.

Catching the demon by surprise it hurtled an enormous boulder that it held aloft at Naur-Oroth. The great rock hit the demon and exploded into glowing and hissing fragments throwing the twisted and evil creature backwards into the woods. It toppled over sending sparks and flames dancing among the trees. Its blade dropped to the earth sizzling and cooling in the scorched needles.

A second tree like unto the first burst from the shadows and kicked a handful of creatures high into the air. Their terrified screams died as their flimsy forms fell with thuds to the earth or into the groaning trees. Then it swung a dead log against the wolf, which tried to leap aside but failed—the log caught its back leg and broke it. It howled in pain and hate.

The two trees stomped about the clearing in a powerful and terrifying rage scattering the vile creatures. They kicked some sending them smashing into the trunks and branches of trees or flying into the air to fall to their doom. Others they picked up and crushed in their tremendous arms. The rest fled into the swaying trees but at a second great cry from the two in the clearing, vines and branches leapt upon those fleeing and picked them up, tripped them and crushed them under roots and branches.

The wolf, though with one leg broken, scurried off whining and cursing before the vines and branches could lay hold of him. The demon Naur-Oroth roared in dismay and fled burning a path away back into the hills moving to the north. The trees heard the wolf's whines and howls growing more and more distant as well. And in only a matter of moments all was quiet and silent.

The presence of evil lifted from the area. But in its place all was empty and burned. Their wrath spent out upon the evildoers and tree killers, they swayed slowly regaining the composure of their kind. The two trees stood in the clearing—surrounded by their crushed vermin. Ignoring them they strode to where the elf boy lay in a fog on the forest floor. They looked at each other with great sadness in their eyes. They spoke no words of any kind but they knew and felt the pain of the young Elfling. One nodded to the other and it scooped the boy up and cradled him in the crook of its arm as if he were a tiny newborn once again.

It rumbled something deep and melancholy—not a word but an expression of love and pain and comfort all rolled into one creaking rumble. The noise broke the fog in Canyo. He curled into the tree—not caring where he was or who carried him. All was lost and vain. All was pain and grief. He had failed in every way imaginable. His father and mother were dead. His friend was dead. And so was his little sister, whom he promised to protect. He broke and finally the tears came, hot and salty on his cheeks. They ran out onto his tunic and into the bark of the tree's arm. His tears flowed freely and openly and the grief of his voice echoed up into the tree's trunk.

The second tree came close and using some willow leaves tried in vain to wipe away the tears. The two great tree-creatures swayed back and forth groaning low and sorrowfully. They leaned together and as the boys unending tears soaked into their bark-like skin and his wracking sobs reverberated in their heartwood they felt his pain and despair. Together they cradled the lost elf boy, their own tears leaking in thick drops that ran in syrupy streaks down their bark covered faces.

20


	4. Chapter 3: Of Roots and Waves

**Chapter 3: Of Roots and Waves**

The tall enormous tree creatures stood in the shadowy forest clearing silently watching the elf boy. He was sitting crouched with his knees pulled to his chest staring at the burned and broken corpse of the great pine tree against which the child's sister had been slain.

For many hours the male had rocked the Elfling in his great arms attempting to console him whilst his wife attempted to stem the tide of tears and anguish coming from the soul of the poor child. But nothing they had attempted had made the slightest difference to the boy. He had wept openly and loudly for a time then, trembling, had drifted not into the waking dreams of his kind but into an actual sleep.

It was then that his wife had taken the child and held him as she sat at the edge of the clearing and let the songs of the leaves above and rhythm of the earth below sing to him a lullaby. The gentle rustles of the branches and deep throbbing and crawling from the dirt at their feet seemed to slowly relax the boy. They hoped that when he at last awoke that he would come to his senses and find rescue.

But though long and restful his sleep seemed, when the elf child awoke at last in the bower of leaves and needles that she had made for him as he slumbered, he sat up, seeing but not acknowledging his guardians and caretakers. He stood silently and wandered about the clearing. The male tree had disposed of the bodies of the vermin they had destroyed earlier—as well as the bodies of the child's slain friends. It would not do any good for the boy to wake only to be confronted with the grisly aftermath of the attack and be reminded anew of the reason for his grief.

Canyo ended near the tree where the demon spirit Naur-Oroth had bound his little sister Nellë and cruelly and remorselessly murdered her before his very eyes. The accursed blade that had done the deed lay forgotten in the needles and ash. It was blackened from the heat and hate of the demon. Canyo reached down and with a great effort of both hands hefted it up. It was enormous for a boy of Canyo's size. It looked cruel—fit only for hacking and slashing. In a daze, he laid it down and gathering some vines and grass wove a harness. Then he strapped the great black blade across his own back. He knew not why he did this yet, but some inner shadow moved him to keep the fell weapon.

In a fog he scanned the withered and blackened trunk for the form of his sister, not sure of whether he wished to find her remains or not. But there was no sign or trace of the bright star that had been his darling sister. All was a twisted and splintered mess of wood and ash.

He looked at the trees, heeding them for the first time, as if to ask if they had taken her somewhere. The taller of the two looked deep into his eyes. He understood what Canyo was asking. But he did not answer. He only shook his slowly and mournfully. Canyo looked away back to the awful tree. _She is gone. There had been no body to remove or over which to raise a burial mound. The horrid stroke that had ended her had consumed Nell__ë__'s small form completely and left no memorial of her in this world._

Canyo sank to his knees at the base of the broken tree. He pushed his fingers deep into the piles of ash that surrounded the broken trunk. _This was all that was left of his family. This was all that was left of his dreams and of his journey—this awful grey ash._

He looked at his hands—they were chalky and stained with the fine dust. He buried them once more up to his wrists. Bits of burnt wood lay like needles in the ash poking his hands. But it did not matter to him. He clenched his fists together as hard as he could. He felt empty as if the spark in him had gone out completely. His arms and hands felt weak as if the horrid ash were stronger than him. But even this did not matter to Canyo. He managed to lift one hand out of the ash, gripping a handful of the grey powder—the breeze carrying a trail of it out from between his clenched fingers and sweeping it into the trees beyond his sight.

He took the pouch in which he had initially stored the wolf's tooth and deposited the ash in his hand into it. He clasped it and let it hang limply against him. Somehow it had survived the ordeal. His tunic was in tatters and his belt torn from him, but this small pouch had remained. And now it would carry all that was left of him. He backed a few paces from the ruined tree and sat with his knees to his chest. Here he would wait until the end of time. For he had no idea of what to do, where to go, or if anything mattered any more.

And so Canyo sat in despair as his two rescuers helplessly watched. They ached to ease his pain and to help him find a path. But they had no experience beyond brief sightings with the Elves. They did not speak words like the Elves did. Even if they knew how, they would not know what words to speak to heal the grieving boy. So for a time they simply watched over Canyo as he continued his lonely grief-stricken vigil.

But as the hours drew on they grew concerned that he would remain there until he wasted and faded into nothingness, like a strong sapling that refuses to grow and withers instead. They began to try to get his attention and to draw him out of the darkness they saw in his eyes. They offered him fruits and nuts they gathered from the nearby trees. They patted him and groaned in their wordless tree-voices at Canyo. They even tried stamping and roaring about the clearing in desperation. But Canyo sat unmoving, hardly blinking. He stared at nothing—his eyes unfocused and his spirit wandering in dark places deep within himself.

At last they decided to gather him up and carry him with them until he healed or until them met others of his kind who would take him and care for him in his madness. So the male placed him upon his shoulder nestled within the branches near his face and together he and his wife moved westwards towards the river, hoping to come across the great companies of the Eldar, which they had long been tailing since they set out from Cuiviénen.

As they came out onto the plains they saw that the stars were veiled by thick rain clouds. It was immensely dark. But the tree-creatures knew their way though they had never set foot upon these hills. The land was theirs to wander and cultivate—to make things grow and to protect all that had roots and drank waters from the earth. New hills were no strangers for all was one, united beneath their feet by the circles of the world. So in the span of but a short march for them they had reached the river and the camp of the Eldar. But the Elves had moved on already. The male stood with his wife on a knoll and peered across the swift waters and they saw the line of the Elves moving swiftly westwards now, though small companies shot off north in south moving back and forth as if in search of something.

He let loose a long echoing call to them that floated over fen and hill. The ears of the Eldar heard the strange haunting call, but fear and grief made their feet only hasten onwards. He called again and again. He stomped down to the river bank and sank his root-like toes into the soft mud of the shallows. It was no use. The Eldar were fleeing these lands as fast as they could. What now would become of the lost child they carried with them?

A soft rolling thunder came from the clouds above. Husband and wife looked up and saw a bright star peering through a break in the thick clouds. Its light filled the river valley with a soft glow—the only light that shone in the dark land. Then the clouds let loose their waters. It fell in a soft curtain gently drenching everything it touched.

The persistent patter of the drops echoed inside of Canyo's mind. And slowly they pulled him out of the deep well in which he had sunk himself. At first all sound was dim and far off as if coming from a great distance. But it grew plainer and more vivid. There was the sound of rushing water below him. There was the patter of the rain drops in his dripping hair and clinging to his eye lashes. And there was the creaking of the great walking tree in which he was perched.

It all came into focus at last and his mind awoke wholly for the first time since the attack. The rain and the river washed away his emptiness as if it were only ash dumped in a mountain stream. He felt life in his limbs and his spirit was refreshed. He still hurt and grieved with a pain he could not yet fathom. But he was lifted from the despair and darkness of the abyss. He could live again. _But what would he do? Where would he go? His people had left him behind in strange lands. _He turned to look at the face of the tree-creature that carried him. Then with growing amazement he realized that it was the same tree that he and Nellë had seen the dreaming before they had left Cuiviénen! _Nell__ë__ had been right all along! _The tree turned his head to look at Canyo. Its bright and fresh eyes blended brown and green in rich earthy streaks—so full of life and vitality. They spoke of strength and growing, of standing and breathing clean air, of waterfalls in the mountains, and rich black soil in which to sink one's roots. The tree smiled at him as he gaped in awe into its wondrously deep and foreign eyes.

* * *

Nowë awoke on his back staring up into the branches of the trees overhead. They were fuzzy and seemed to swim before his eyes. He heard water tumbling rapidly over stones nearby—a small stream. Then before him a face came into view. It took him a moment to focus and make out who knelt over him. It was the noble face of Olwë, brother of Elwë, who gazed down upon him with great concern in his eyes. Yet upon seeing Nowë conscious and regaining his senses, his expression became that of joy and relief.

He eased the aching elf up into a sitting position saying, "There we are, friend. Welcome back to the waking world. Now relax and regain your composure. Have some water. You must be parched!"

Nowë drank gratefully from the waterskin that Olwë offered him. Every bit of him ached and was sore. Someone had bound up his injured leg. It felt stiff but he imagined that he could walk on it albeit slowly. He paused his drinking to ask, "How long have I been unconscious?"

"You have been fitful and asleep for two full marches now. We are well west of the great river that you saw us at the night of the attack."

Looking about him Nowë noted the number of elves in the camp. "But this cannot be all of us, even with all of Nolmo's company lost."

"Nay. It is not all of our number. Many are away on an errand," Olwë's expression darkened again in concern.

"What is it? What is the matter?"

Olwë made a brave face, "Do not trouble yourself about it yet, friend. You have suffered much. And rest and peace you shall want more than grievous news. You are but one of four of your company to return to us alive."

Then as if fitting the pieces of a puzzle together that should have been plain but only after much deliberation does one see how they fit, Nowë jumped to his feet, not caring for the stiffness and pain in his body. "Canyo? Where is he? Is he safe? What about Nellë?"

Olwë lowered his eyes then returned them to gaze at Nowë. Ever so slightly he shook his head. "I am sorry, Nowë. I know the boy and his family were precious to you."

Nowë took this news as if it were a great weight laid upon his shoulders and within his body at once. As if he were suddenly made not of flesh and bone but of iron and stone. He sank back to his knees, weary with grief. Then he struggled as if to remember something. "How did I come here? I was surrounded by those foul _orqui. _I should be dead or their thrall and captive. What happened, Olwë?"

The elf looked into his eyes, considering what to tell him. Then he hardened his face grimly and decided upon the full truth. "You were struck senseless by one of the_ orqui._ They bound you, gagged you, and threw a sack over your head. Then a few of them drug you from the clearing into the forest to torture and execute you and make sport of your body."

"How do you know this?" interrupted Nowë. "You were far away at the time by the banks of the river."

"Yes I was, friend. And for that I am eternally sorry. I should have been present to aid you in your need. But alas I was not. However, _they_ were present." Olwë indicated over Nowë's shoulder. Nowë turned and sitting just behind him were Braigwen and Camceleg, the two elves of Finwë's people that had returned for the missing elf company.

"You two!" Nowë stood and whirled upon them full of anger and resentment, his grief swelling up like a drowning wave. "You hindered me from reaching the boy! He and his sister would be among us now if it were not for you two!"

"Not so, friend," Camceleg replied. "The boy and his sister were beyond our aid or yours ere we rescued you from the net that was cast upon you. By then they were already surrounded by enemies!"

"And if all three of us had attacked them at once then—"

"Then all three of us would be slain or in chains along with the children and the others of your group!" interjected Braigwen with a fire in her eyes. "You are fortunate to be standing here, Nowë, for you were the last of your number that we dared to return into that den of monsters to rescue."

"Then you erred in judgment," Nowë spat. "You should have done all you could to rescue the children! I ought to be the one dead or a thrall. And they the ones here resting and happy to be free with their people! Yet for your judgment that is not so!"

"And so you would indeed be slain!" Braigwen hissed back at him.

"She is right, Nowë," Olwë admitted. "When the _orqui _hauled you away into the shadows of the trees to slay you, they were watching hidden. When the monsters were distracted they leapt upon them and slew them. You were still senseless. They carried you from that awful place back to us. You owe them your life."

Nowë burned with indignation and anger. The horrible drowning pain threatened to strangle him. He could still see the horrid monsters trying to tear his friend from protecting his child sister. He could see the fear in her eyes and the pain in his as they were hefted before the evil wolf. _And they sit here calmly telling me to be grateful for my life!_ Yet he did not press it further.

He turned to them and in his pain he spoke to them with venom, "Forgive me, brother and sister. I shall indeed never forget what you have done for me…and for the Elves."

Camceleg looked mildly alarmed and Braigwen stared back at Nowë pitting her fire against his venom. "What became of them?" Nowë demanded.

"We know not. We freed you and returned with the others we rescued as swiftly as we could—being burdened with four to bear away amidst fire and enemies."

"So you did not even see their end? You fled into the night while the son of my friend and the daughter of my friend were in mortal peril? You did not even remain to witness the evil doom your fear and inaction wrought upon their young flesh? Curse you Camceleg, Swift Hand. Swift it may be but upon the wrong course. And a curse upon you as well Braigwen—your ferocity is naught but a façade of timidity. Ever may the deeds of your hands and your children's hands lead to ruin and loss, so that they may know the pain you have wrought for the boy Canyo and his sister, Nellë!"

"Peace, Nowë!" Olwë declared loudly and sternly. "Speak no curses or dooms upon your kin! Enough evil has befallen us in recent hours—some of which you do not yet know. Do not darken our joy at your return by bringing more heartache down upon the Eldar, and certainly not upon those that pulled you helpless and senseless from the hands of the _orqui_."

Nowë gritted his teeth, trying to withstand the immense emotions careening like burning stars within his chest. He resented the correction and burned against the husband and wife still. And his grief was an unimaginable weight. Yet his wisdom and logic broke through the fog of pain and anger and he relented, despite what he felt he ought to say and do in his heart. "You spoke of other evil that has befallen the Elves. What other ill tidings do you bring?"

"Lord Elwë, my brother and the leader of our whole clan, has gone missing."

* * *

Several long weeks had passed since Canyo had been healed of the madness following the attack of the demon and the slaying of Nellë. The rains of the heavens and the rushing waters along the earth purged away the darkness and lifted him from the abyss that had swallowed him into its crushing despair.

With his people gone away and with no one in the world to turn to, Canyo had decided to befriend the two creatures that had rescued him. He was confused and troubled why none of his folk returned to investigate his fate. Yet mostly he tried to push such thoughts from his mind for they ignited unwholesome lines of logic. Instead he happily travelled with his rescuers and together they had been slowly wandering and traveling the forests of the land in peace. Canyo ate when he was hungry. He drank when he was thirsty. And he rested upon their branch-like limbs whenever he was weary. They always knew where to find the most succulent fruit, or the most refreshing streams of water, or the most savory nuts and berries. They even wove for him a nesting bed of leaves and bracken for him to sleep upon, for he had taken to actual sleep rather than the wakeful dreaming of his people. For when he meditated the horrors of that night returned anew to him. Yet in complete sleep he found rest and a healing forgetfulness he had never known before.

Yet on occasion he would slip into bouts of deep sorrow and pain. During these times he muttered to himself, nursing the grief of his slain family and friends. He whispered in resentment of his people for never searching for him and even to the Valar for calling them all in the first place. None of this would have happened if they had all simply remained at peace by the shores of Cuiviénen. Yet these dark passions were short-lived and he would become merry and lithe with his new friends once more. His companions seemed to intuitively predict when he would slip into a bout of deep sorrow and they always sought to distract him or comfort him in some way. They were altogether amazing and he grew very fond of them in a short span of time.

They walked on two legs and used two arms like an elf, but they were bark-like and wooden like trees, with branches twigs and leaves sprouting from them. They liked to move slowly and were never in a hurry for anything. But without the madness fogging him, he recalled the fury of their wrath against the monsters. Yet they were ever only gentle and kind to him. He had taken to calling their kind Onodrim. They cared and nurtured and guarded the forests and all green things. They were shepherds of the forest like one might shepherd a herd of animals.

Their eyes were deep pools that always made him think of green things, good soil, and fresh water. He knew without a doubt that they were very intelligent, yet they spoke no words. They groaned and creaked and made ear-splitting hoots but neither of his friends spoke in any intelligible language that Canyo could decipher. Yet this did not prevent him from speaking to them. He spoke to them more than he had ever spoken to anyone. And even though they did not reply—he knew that they understood him somehow.

And despite the communication barrier he managed to learn much from them and about them. He learned in time that they were lovers and companions and had been for many years already. He also discovered that there was also many more of their kind wandering in the wild forests and meadows of the world. They chanced upon another _onod_ a few sleeps before. Canyo had been extremely excited to meet another Tree-herder.

Canyo ate with them and they drank the water of a babbling brook. Then he sang to them songs from his infancy and all three had been transfixed. He could hardly note their breathing, their eyes wide with wonder. It was the first time since meeting them that he had been able to bring himself to sing. When he finished they hooted and waved their branch arms in approval. After a time though, the three moved on wandering.

As they rested under the open stars some rests later Canyo heard a deep rustling voice from his side. The male tree was humming one of the songs that Canyo had sung earlier. Then his wife joined in her sweet swaying tones. Canyo turned and watched them in wonder listening. This was the first time that they had imitated him in this fashion. Then the female began to break her wordless tones into sounds. Her mate joined her and as they closed the final line of the song they were singing in the words of Canyo's tongue! It was halting imperfect and broken but they had done it! They had spoken and sung!

"That was amazing, friends!" he leapt up clapping for them, "Let's have another! I will sing with you this time!" He began another tune that he had sung for them earlier. They joined in with him and after a few lines their halting sounds and uncertainty vanished. By the end of the second song their wondrous forest voices out sang his.

Canyo cast himself down on the soft grass, laughing with joy. "You two never fail to amaze me. You are learning so fast! Soon you will be teaching me things about my own language that I did not know!" The two Onodrim smiled at him and gave great rumbling chuckles.

Then the male placed one long hand upon his sturdy trunk and intoned in his inhaling and exhaling voice, "Fangorn."

"Fangorn? Is that…is that your name?" The _onod_ nodded his head.

"Fangorn," he repeated. Then he motioned to his wife. She looked back at him, surprised. But then thinking deeply she spoke as well, indicating her own trunk.

"Fimbrethil," her voice was slow and sweet, annunciating each sound as if it were some delicious treat.

Canyo was amazed. They had never before indicated that they had names for themselves. Or perhaps now that they were learning to speak they had devised names of their own. He had never bothered to tell them his name. It just had not seemed important or necessary when one's companions did not speak and would not call for him by name.

Yet when he gave them his name it did not seem like it belonged to him anymore. It sounded strange and foreign on his tongue. But he had no other name to give them, so he stuck with 'Canyo' for the time being.

Following their first attempts, Fangorn and Fimbrethil began to sing regularly with Canyo. As they walked he would point to things as they passed by and give the name by which they were known in his tongue. The two Onodrim learned quickly. Soon they were having brief and halting conversations with their elf-companion.

The weeks passed on and became months. Fangorn and Fimbrethil were now fluent in speaking to Canyo although they spoke very slowly and often stopped mid-sentence for minutes at a time to enjoy breathing some gust of wind before continuing. Canyo also noted that they were rumbling in their tree voices often too. But it was different from before. There was a definite order and pattern to their creakings and rumblings. He surmised that they were in the process of creating their own language befit for the tongues and minds of their kind.

As their grasp of language had increased Canyo began to learn much of the forest and the land. He learned to find his way even though he had never been to that region. He learned the names of trees and what was good to eat and what was not. He conversed with the animals that came amongst them. Some of which the Onodrim were fond but a few others Canyo had to escort away as Fangorn glared at them believing them to be tree-harmers. He also learned to be patient and to enjoy the sensations of the world about him—the faint light of the stars in the sky twinkling, the sensation of water from a stream flowing over his bare feet, the warm vibrant flavor of fresh strawberries, the clear pine scented breeze that came from the mountains. And so the months slowly passed on to a year and it passed on to many years.

Canyo had grown taller—the blade at his back now only barely longer than he was tall. Though a few dozen years of age, he was still a youth and not yet transitioning into physical maturity (Elves age slowly and do not reach their prime until they are half a century or more). Canyo was not yet come into manhood or even young-manhood but he had indeed grown over time. His wandering with the Onodrim had made his hair wild but his body strong. He was hardly concerned with his people away westwards. _They left me after all. And here with my friends I am free._ His fits of brooding occurred less and less frequently but they were more intense and filled with ever more resentful thoughts when he succumbed to them. He longed for the mountains and Fangorn and Fimbrethil agreed. So they wandered up and down the hills and plains just west of the Blue Mountains, enjoying peace and complete freedom. Canyo had not imagined that this would be how he learned the secrets of the world but he was content.

* * *

Nowë raced around the great hill. The footsteps of many Elf feet lay before him. Bridles and waterskins lay cast aside upon the side of the path. _I am almost there! We are almost there!_ He pushed his legs to move faster than ever!

News had come back from Oromë to hasten with all speed for he would not wait much longer for the lagging people of Elwë to arrive upon the shores. Already all of Ingwë and Finwë's people had reached the shore and were prepared to travel across the sea with Oromë and apparently a Valar who ruled the great waters named Ulmo. But Oromë had made it clear that he could not long delay. He regretted very much that the Elves had been unable to locate their lost Lord for over a year. But he could not make the rest of the Eldar wait while they combed every glen and forest for Elwë.

And so a large group led by Nowë and Olwë made for the coast with all speed, though they left many to continue to search for Elwë. And now the great sea was just around the next hill. Nowë could hear the waves and the cry of the gulls. He felt strangely feverish and compelled to see the waves. It became an obsession as if nothing else mattered to him. His feet moved more swiftly than he had ever moved them before.

He was the first of his folk to tear across onto the flat sandy shore and behold the immense rolling waves of the sea. He stood there in the wet sand feeling the water crash over his ankles and soak his boots. The waves twinkled brightly under the stars and they sang a never-ending song that entranced him. Above him sea gulls lauded the song of the sea and called for more. The salt came into his nose and filled him with longing.

He realized that it was not the sea in itself that he craved but the crossing of the sea to the land of the Valar. He needed to go to Mandos and beg to trade places with Nolmo and his family. He had learned that the spirits of the slain went to a great hall in Valinor where they were guarded and healed of their sorrows. And when Mandos deemed them well they were given the choice to leave the great hall and be re-embodied. Nowë needed to be there for them—to help them heal.

In his wonder at the spectacle of the great ocean he did not at first notice that there were no others of his people. The other clans were not upon the shore. _Where are they?_ He turned frantically wondering if perhaps they had come to the wrong part of the shore.

But then with a horrid realization he saw the rest of the Eldar. They were far off shore upon an immense isle of land. Oromë stood upon the brink of the isle. He was getting smaller though. _They are leaving without us!_

"Wait! Do not go! We are here! We are here! See us! Come back! We are here! We are ready to leave! Wait! We are here!" Nowë shouted as loud as he could. None of the Eldar could hear him but Oromë turned back to the shores of Middle Earth and looked at Nowë.

By now Olwë and the rest of the elves with them were coming onto the beach staring out in disbelief and dismay at the retreating isle and their kin upon it. Many shouted as Nowë had done. But he stood silent now and numb. _They left us!_

Then faint and far off came the horn of Oromë. His great voice echoed softly over the waves like a whisper. "I shall return for you. You are not forgotten Children of the Stars! I shall return I promise!"

Nowë gazed in disappointment as the isle sank out of sight, hidden by the waves. Finally after a long silence he turned to Olwë who stood beside him with shoulders slumped.

"Now what?"

* * *

The stars were veiled and all was deep in shadow as Fangorn, Fimbrethil, and Canyo walked higher into the foothills of the mountains than they had ever yet been, since they had all crossed them with the company of the Eldar.

Canyo tried to enjoy the new song that Fimbrethil sang and the fresh fruit that he and Fangorn had found but he could not. There was a splinter in his mind that poked and prodded his sense of peace and contentment no matter what he did to enjoy his time. He realized it was the same feeling he had had a year ago upon the hill with his father.

Canyo spoke to Fangorn about it, but Fangorn was slow to anger and slower to worry. So Canyo simply kept his eyes open and his senses aware. They wandered into a dark glen of tall fir trees when the hair upon his neck prickled intensely. He whirled about on Fangorn peering into the trees behind them. There was nothing.

Then he turned ahead. They were passing among huge boulders that lay strewn randomly in the clearing. _Odd. How did such large stones come to be in this glen?_

Just as he thought this the boulders erupted upwards and unfurled themselves into great monsters! They appeared like the _orqui_ that had attacked him all those years ago but these were immense! They were thick and muscled and as tall as Fangorn! They roared loudly and all five fiercely charged the three of them.

They caught Fimbrethil off guard and three of them bowled her over striking her and grabbing her limbs and twisting them. She cried out and resisted greatly. The creatures grunted and strained. Even with three of them they were hard pressed to over-power Fimbrethil.

The other two came at Fangorn and Canyo. He placed the elf on the ground between his legs for protection. The enemies squared off circling one another until one great monster stormed Fangorn and grappled with him. The second came in the next moment and latched onto the great _onod_ pulling and wrenching him in every direction. Canyo ducked and dove every which direction avoiding the immense trunks and legs that were stomping and flailing in the glen.

Fangorn lifted the giant creature on his back high into the air and tossed it into the trees. Despite the danger, Canyo was awed by the strength of his friend. Throwing the little _orqui _was one thing but to lift a monster like this and throw him high into the branches of a tree was a wonder of might. The tree enveloped it and ensnared it. It roared in rage and frustration.

Fimbrethil managed to get an elbow across the throat of one of the monsters that was ripping at her and crush it. It flopped away clutching its neck and gasping for a few moments before it lay still. The other two were more wary and continued to twist her right arm and pound it in attempt to break it off.

Fangorn roared in rage as he noticed his wife's struggle. He blocked a strike from the monster in front of him and grabbed its own arm and with a tremendous cry ripped it from the wretched creature. It roared in turn but in agony and pain. Fangorn took the dismembered limb and struck its former owner across the head with it. It went down hard against the tree where its fellow was ensared.

The creature in the tree was released and fell upon his comrade. In a blink Fangorn was over them beating them with the arm he had taken. Then he placed one immense root-covered foot on the chest of the monster on top, and with a roar forced his trunk-like leg downwards.

It was like watching a tree grow deep into the earth—spreading its roots downwards and claiming the earth as its own. The two creatures screamed and roared until they gasped no more under the force and piercing roots of Fangorn.

Then he turned to go to the aid of Fimbrethil. But the two remaining monsters had managed to wrench her arm back behind her and they held her up before them as a shield and a hostage. Their fierce flat faces burned with a wild anger—almost animal like. Then one spoke in a deep voice spewing course grunts and snuffs that only vaguely sounded like words. But its face and tone spoke clearly through its slavering filthy noises. It twisted hard on her arm and she gave a cry that made the leaves and branches quiver in rage.

Fangorn stood stock still glaring at the two monsters. They stared back in a tense standoff. They kept pressing and twisting Fimbrethil's arm. She reached vainly for them behind her with her other arm but they remained out of reach of her birch-fingers. Yet in all the chaos of the fight the huge beasts had failed to take notice of Canyo following the initial onslaught. He had been forced to the edges of the brawl to avoid being trampled. But now he found that they were so focused on Fangorn and Fimbrethil that he was completely ignored and he crept slowly among the trees beginning to flank them.

They forced her down upon her immense knees and one seized her near her face twisting mightily. But the strength of Fimbrethil was tremendous and she resisted the force of the monster and lunged with her left branch for it. It was forced to relinquish its grip upon her slender throat but it seized all of her arm and with all of its strength pulled it back so that she could not gain leverage. She roared in pain and frustration, kicking up with her legs lifting the giant monsters into the air momentarily before all three crashed back down to the ground all snarling and grunting.

Fangorn knew that if he approached they would slay her, but he feared that if he did nothing they would slay her anyways. It was then that he took notice of Canyo lightly climbing the tree directly behind the struggling trio. Hope kindled within his heartwood and he bellowed at the monsters pulling their attention forward to him, "Look hither you stone-maggots for my face is the last visage you shall see upon the earth or beneath it!"

The distraction worked and Canyo clambered out upon the branch that hung over the heads of the two monsters and Fimbrethil. He unfastened the blade at his back—the immense knife that he collected from the demon. It was incredibly heavy. But he managed to heft it over his head, the branch dipping as he balanced upon it. The monsters were wholly unaware of him as they spat and cursed at Fangorn.

They pulled back on Fimbrethil's arms powerfully and he heard a wooden snap from her right branch and she screamed in pain. The whole forest quivered and trembled. And it shook even more from the wrath of Fangorn as he roared with every fiber in his great trunk.

Canyo could wait no longer. _Now!_ He bounced on the branch and let it sling him high into the air. He steadied the enormous blade over his head. He arched his body into a crescent as he descended upon the head of one of the monsters. He brought it down with all of the force he could muster—which was far more than he thought himself capable.

The blade clove into its shoulder and split bone and muscle and fell deep into its torso. It was a grievous blow though just shy of mortal. But the monster roared in fear and pain letting go of Fimbrethil. In a flash Fangorn was upon the wounded creature. Canyo let go of the blade, leaving it wedged in the gory slash of its shoulder. He dove out of the way and rolled in the needles. Fangorn hit the beast full force and lifted him high into the air. It was screaming in fear now more than pain. It knew that its end was near. Fangorn cried and brought the giant beast down upon his wooden knee and there was a crack as of a young sapling breaking in a storm. The monster jerked once and was motionless. Fangorn tossed its limp carcass onto the earth.

At the same time Fimbrethil with her left arm free had twisted around and lifted the last creature off of its feet and seizing its entire head in her left hand lifted it and flipped it over her body and slammed it with enormous force upon the earth. Dust trembled and wafted under the needles of the fir trees. Fangorn joined her over the final creature and together they proceeded to tear it apart limb by limb until they used their root-like toes and fingers to pull apart its awful insides. It was a ghastly and grisly sight, but the ire of the Onodrim was high and they were terrible and ruthless in their wrath.

After it was done they gathered the bits and the bodies of the other dead monsters and piled them in a clearing under the stars. Fimbrethil let her right arm hang, swaying uselessly. It was badly injured. But she aided her husband and they left the small hill of dead creatures to rot in the open for all who came hence to see. He pulled the blade from the pile of the dead and returned it to Canyo. "Once more I am in your debt, young Elfling. You have the strength of a young hardwood and all of the fire of your own people. Fimbrethil owes you her life and I owe you for saving my love."

Canyo simply nodded in a humble bow. He noticed that they moved very slowly now. They lumbered a ways into the woods. Canyo followed them. "Fangorn, how badly is she hurt? Will she be alright? Fangorn?" But his friend cradled his wife's hurt arm and rumbled in the tongue he had devised. It was long and mournful with bits of creaking wrath still in it. It went on for some minutes as they passed slowly among the trees.

"Where are you going? What are we going to do?"

"We are very weary, my young friend." Fangorn rumbled. "And Fimbrethil is grievously hurt. We must find water. We must find water and heal."

After an hour they came to a stream and a pool. They were upon the side of the mountain now. They were not very high yet but Canyo knew that they were farther up than they had ever travelled together. He looked back to see his friends sink their roots into the stream. She leaned into him and Fangorn wrapped his branches about her, supporting her injured arm. They rumbled deep and slowly in their treeish language for a long time. Canyo kept watch.

He was not entirely sure that all was well just yet. The great monsters were gone certainly, but the shadow at the back of his mind did not fade as he expected that it would. It lingered all the more and he found himself restless and anxious. After a few hours he returned to the feet of his friends who were now silent and breathing slowly in deep breaths, their eyes closed peacefully.

"I do not think that we should linger here. There are still evil things that prowl these woods. I can feel them. Fangorn? Fimbrethil?"

But neither _onod_ answered him. They remained very still entwined together breathing in their rich wooden way.

He tried again, "Fimbrethil! Are you feeling better? Fangorn? We must go quickly. This is not a good place to be found unprepared."

But both were silent. He shouted up at them and waved his hands. Becoming increasingly desperate he lit a fire in front of them and broke dead branches across their shins. But they neither noticed him nor cared what he did. They had retreated deep within themselves.

Canyo noticed small green creepers spiraling over Fimbrethil's injured arm. They clung to her and were filling in the crack and splits within her great branch. They bound it up like a cast. Then he guessed at what was wrong with his companions. They were in a deep healing trance. And they would not come back to the world of the waking until Fimbrethil was fully healed of her wound.

The anxiety in his stomach tightened. _ We cannot stay here! What am I to do? I cannot move them or rouse them. _He knew grimly what must be done. _ I will remain at their side and watch over them. I will protect them while they heal. But when they awake they shall surely hear of the trouble they have caused!_

He sat at their feet to draw in the soft soil by the side of the stream, but no sooner had he made his first stroke than he heard cruel and course laughter from the woods about him. He stood and widened his stance. _I knew it! I wish I were not right all of the time._

From the shadows crept _orqui_. They came in many shapes and sizes. They were all dressed in ragged scraps of cloth and bits of leather. They gurgled and growled at him brandishing their long cruel blades. There were well over a score of them.

Canyo backed against the feet of the Onodrim. He pulled his blade from his back and let its tip dip to the soil. He would need all of his strength for the fight and his only weapon was much too large for him still.

Then a leader of the pack stepped forward. It was tall with no hair upon its head. Scars criss-crossed its muscled torso. It was horribly pale as if it were a creature that hid in the earth. It spoke in a deep mocking voice. It was some foul language. And although he did not know the words the creature spoke he understood him all the same. He spoke mockingly to his comrades. _What was an elf child doing all alone in the mountains?_

He raised a huge iron mace and pointed at the demon's blade and spoke again. Canyo realized he meant to claim it for himself once he had slain Canyo. Canyo felt the old fire in his bones again. His eyes narrowed and his body moved of its own initiative.

He spoke to the giant _orc_, "I am Canyo, son of Nolmo, friend of the Onodrim. By what name are you known?"

The pale _orc_ captain smiled with a sneer. Apparently he understood Canyo's words. He answered by placing his left hand upon his scarred chest and simply stated in his deep fell voice, "Azog."

Canyo smiled grimly, "Well met Azog." He hefted his immense black blade over his head with both hands. Then he stared directly into Azog's violent and lustful eyes. "You desire my blade? Come and claim it!"

* * *

**Author's Note**

There are several theories about the origins of both orcs and trolls. For the purposes of this story I am of the notion that orcs originated from the poor elves that were captured by Morgoth and his servants. These were tortured and twisted and ruined and forced to breed with other horrible and dark creatures. But as they were still elves thus remained immortal (as to why Azog makes an appearance). Over time through cross-breeding, in-breeding and the occasional evil maiar spirit that took the form of an orc, the orcs populations became more divergent from elves and some may have lost immortality—being prone to disease and age. Most of the old and original orcs/goblins were slain (immortal or no), what with the life of an orc being so fraught with danger and peril. An average orc was as much likely to perish at the hands of one its traitorous fellows or from the ire of its commander as much as in battle against the other peoples of Middle Earth. Yet I believe that a few exceptional old orcs and goblins (like Azog and Bolg) not only managed to survive but thrived as tribal warriors, chieftains, and orc-generals all the way into the days of Thorin, Bilbo, Frodo, and the time of the War of the Ring.

Trolls were devised in imitation and mockery of the Ents. Whether they were bred from other evil creatures or were derived from the stone of the mountains I cannot decide but they fall far short of the intelligence, majesty, and strength of the creatures to which they were created to be a match.

Again this is just my interpretation and opinion. Much of this is conjecture. But I write simply for enjoyment, and not to change or usurp Tolkien canon.

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	5. Chapter 4: Zai Dashunizu

**Chapter 4: Zai Dashunizu***

Azog grinned in wicked delight. He would enjoy the pain and death of the brave and foolish elf boy. He motioned to the others of his pack to close in on the child. He would wait and see if the boy proved worthy of gasping his last breath at his own hand. If not, his _snaga_ would finish the elf off for him.

Canyo widened his stance as a handful of the monsters circled about him. He kept his tremendous black blade poised over his head, waiting to strike. _I must be quick to fell them all. _Canyo planned his fight strategies, then one of his foul enemies croaked and came at him with a vicious club.

Canyo side stepped at the last possible moment sweeping its spiked club over its head and bringing both club and blade back under its off balance feet. Its legs left the earth and it fell onto the ground upon its back, cursing. Canyo wasted no time and brought his blade down with all his might upon the prone monster. It gurgled once and perished.

While Canyo attempted to slide his weapon out of the corpse of the slain orc, its fellows used the opportunity to attack. All of the other four that had initially closed in upon him rushed the elf boy at once. Canyo let go of the blade which was only grudgingly slipping from the gore of the dead creature. He stepped aside as a scythe came down where he had just been standing. He shoved the orc that had struck into two of its fellows, just in time to twist his torso to avoid a stabbing blade. He grabbed the arm of his attacker and twisted it behind its back until it lost its grip upon the short sword.

Instantly he whirled it about and plunged it through the back of its former wielder. He kicked the orc away freeing the rusted and cruel blade. The other three came at him again and he blocked left and right, whirling the blade behind him as well to parry a hacking stroke. He twisted away from them but one of their many blows landed and a long cut appeared on his shoulder next to the nearly faded scars of the wolf's teeth. The laceration burned as if the blade was laced with venom from some fell creature.

But the elf could pay it no mind yet. He continued to dance between and around the three orcs. He struck one to the ground and, seizing his opportunity, spun and ran straight for one of the other two. He leapt high into the air then dropped suddenly directly to the side of the orc—it had expected an attack from above and was off balance with its scythe raised. Canyo rolled behind it and rising into a crouch pushed the sword behind him between the creature's ribs. He ripped it out and threw his weapon, blade first, into the open throat of its fellow as it rushed at him. He caught its gurgling bleeding form and pushed it on top of the third of his assailants as it attempted to rise.

It became entangled in the dying limbs of its fellow and Canyo used the precious seconds to free his own blade. Once more he leapt high and this time committed to his attack. The orc had only just managed to extricate itself from the body on top of it. It kicked the blood soaked body away and raised its eyes just in time to see Canyo bringing the enormous hacking blade down upon its head. The orc's head split in two and it fell instantly back dead. Canyo freed his blade much quicker this time and brought it to bear as the rest of Azog's warriors closed in upon him.

He was not sure that he could fight them all at once. But he had little choice. Fortunately he saw fear in their eyes. They knew now he was not as helpless as they had first supposed. _Good. Let them be afraid. _They continued to circle him edging in, then backing swiftly away as Canyo paid them heed in turn.

"Come and fight me, slaves of the Shadow! Or are all of you too frightened of a small stranded elf boy to do your master's work?" He began to taunt them and he saw anger appear in their dark and fell eyes. A few gave fearful glances at Azog who stood stoically with his mace in hand watching the fray. Finally several cried and rushed in at Canyo swinging wildly with their sharp and cruel weapons. He used their rashness and blind rage against them.

In only a few moments he used a combination of shoves, trips, ducks, and great swings from his blade to dispatch the second wave of orcs. He also now sported two more cuts—one upon the left side of his head. His white hair on that side was dripping pink with his blood. And his side burned and oozed slowly as well. He breathed hard, perspiration beading upon his forehead. He felt his cuts as if their pain and fire were spreading from the wounds. He felt tremors in his hands. He would need to be more precise. He could not afford to earn any more wounds if he was to prevail against the monsters. And he had to abandon the great blade. It was too much to wield in his wounded condition. He stabbed it deep into the earth behind him and kicked up a mattock and spear from the slain at his feet.

He brandished the curved axe-head and held the spear out before him challenging the rest, "I grow weary of this contest. Come and finish the errand of Azog the Coward if you dare!" At this he pointed the spear tip at the chest of Azog whose eyes narrowed and he cursed and spat at the elf. He began to advance behind the rest of his group to Canyo, moving silkily as if he were some great beast hunting his prey. He spoke and gave orders to those of his command that remained and they spread out surrounding Canyo. _Fool! I have been surrounded before. You shall not catch me unawares by placing your minions in a ring about me!_ Canyo's eyes narrowed upon the great orc advancing towards him.

Then from all sides came the orc warriors. Canyo leapt and spun. He side stepped and rolled under blows. He was much too fast for them but he was horribly outnumbered. He swept the head from the shoulders of one creature only to knock another aside with the shaft of the spear. He dodged to his left and spun the spear at an attacker, the blade cutting its throat. He immediately reversed it and rammed it through the chest of yet another while blocking a blow from an incoming club. He spun the enemy club aside and twirling the haft in his hand brought the axe-blade up under its ribs into its belly and innards. He ripped both weapons free, exultant at his success. _Why am I so naturally adept at battle?_ Canyo mused and managed a smile even in the chaos and fray.

Just as he thought that his victory was only a matter of moments away a great pale form rushed into the side of his vision. It was Azog! Canyo meant to turn and engage him but he was already busy with three others. Before Canyo could think aught else the immensely powerful orc swung his great mace, but not at the boy. It slammed into one of his troops, shattering the bones of its back. Its broken body flew directly at Canyo and bore him over onto the corpse strewn earth.

Immediately cruel sharp hands grasped at him but he stabbed with the spear upon which he had managed to maintain a grip. The hands shot away but then there was a sharp cracking noise and then a leather thong coiled about his wrist that held the spear and yanked him back to the ground. A second crack sounded and another whip lashed about his opposite ankle forcing his body to lie stretched upon the roots and needles. He dropped the spear and scrabbled for a curved handheld scythe on a nearby body with his free hand.

He grasped it and held it up, but no other orcs came to attack him. Four held the whips and kept Canyo struggling upon the earth. The rest kept their distance as Azog began to saunter menacingly closer. He paused and set his mace upon the forest floor next to Canyo's great blade embedded in the earth. With one hand he lightly lifted it from the soil and held it up examining it. Even for the great orc it was a large weapon. He grinned and licked some of the dirt and gore from the blade giving a sigh as if it were some rare delicacy. Azog gripped the blade and felt its weight. He swung it back and forth several times making hissing noises in the steamy blood filled air. He glanced gloatingly at Canyo, enjoying the venomous look the elf boy was giving him.

He strode painfully slowly forward, seeing defeat set into the boy's eyes. Yet there was neither fear nor grief in the child's gaze. There was only anger and a hate that he knew all too well. The boy glared at him and held up the small scythe in defense. Azog lightly swatted it from his grasp with his new blade. He laid the huge flat weapon upon Canyo's shoulder sliding it teasingly over him. He bent low and smelled the elf, savoring the smell of the boy's defeat and powerless rage. He stood once more laughing evilly to himself. Canyo spat at him and glared defiantly into Azog's pale eyes.

The orc captain tipped his head slightly. What a brave little fool! It was good that his spirit would soon be torn from his flesh and sent scampering to the Tyrants across the sea. In his own black tongue he boomed, _"It is time to die, little boy. Flee now to the halls that await you. I send you there as my token of respect to the Filth across the sea. Give them greetings from Azog!"_

He raised the fire-blackened blade high over Canyo. The boy stared back unflinchingly. His eyes darted to the side and then back to Azog's. A smile crept over his face. Something was wrong. Then faster than he could see a small arrow-shaft buried itself between the bones of Azog's forearm which held his newly claimed sword aloft. He roared in surprise and pain and dropped it to the ground. A second arrow whizzed past him and smote into the chest of one the orcs holding the whips.

In a flash Canyo used the distraction and shock of the attack to sweep up the scythe once more and cut the leather that bound his ankle. Two more arrows flew from the darkness and two more orcs staggered and fell. Canyo yanked on the whip upon his wrist and pulled the orc there to him and slew him with the scythe. He tucked it into his belt and scooped up his own great sword as the other orcs whirled in fear and panic looking into the shadows for their attackers. They nervously brandished their weapons spreading away from Canyo. The elf felt his limbs renewed with vigor and strength. _All is not lost yet! I was over confident before but I shall not be so again._

Azog roared and broke the arrow in his arm and ripped the shaft out leaving a bloody hole dripping black orc-blood onto the forest floor. He ran to his mace and gripped I,t grimacing in pain. As he brandished it a strange monster sprang up from the very earth itself and wielding two mattocks cut down two of his _snaga_ at once. It was short and squat and covered in a hide of metal. It had a hideous face and a horrid mane of hair. No sooner had it appeared than a second like it emerged farther off, also seeming to spring from the earth. It too leapt upon his troops and began to slay them.

Azog shouted in frustration and swung the mace to charge the nearest interloper. But two more sprang out of the dirt and one larger and stockier than all the rest emerged from the shadows of the forest. The last creature carried a doubled bladed war axe. Furious at the thought that his easy victim and victory might be ripped from his clutches, Azog sprang at the last attacker in a rage.

Canyo did not know who or what the strange and terrifying little creatures were, but he did know that they meant to aid him in slaying every last one of the orcs. He sprang forward into the fight and hewed the leg clean off of an orc that was bearing down upon one of his helpers. The orc fell screaming to the ground clutching at its stump. The little iron creature brought its bladed mace down upon the orc's head. It glanced at Canyo tilted its metal head in a small bow and grunted something at him then sped away on short legs to aid one of its own. Canyo turned to face two more orcs who were frantically and wildly coming at him.

Azog slammed his mace hard upon the little creature. It raised a metal disc in defense. The mace hammered hard upon it and a deep clang echoed under the trees. The creature's knees bent under the strain but then straightened. It swung its great axe with one hand, shielding itself with the other. Azog leaned back out of range and brought the mace across the stunted creature upon its unprotected side. Again there was a metallic echo that quivered in the mountains. The creature flew and landed against a tree in the midst of the nearby stream and collapsed upon its roots. Azog smiled. _Perhaps you are not as powerful a foe as I feared._

But the creature grunted and rose up again. It picked up its axe and hefted it up in challenge to Azog. It shouted proudly in some strange language to Azog. It motioned with iron claws to him, urging the orc captain to attack him. Azog did so with pleasure. He had yet to meet any save his former masters that seemed to have any skill in battle. His _snaga_ were for the most part useless. Only the boy and these strange metal beasts had any taste or talent for war. This would be a fight he long remembered.

He set to the rude metal beast with a new ferocity. His mace deflected off its shield and made a crater in the earth sending up clods of black soil. The beast poked Azog in the head with the flat crown of its axe and stepped back laughing in a gruff voice and then spoke to him again in its alien tongue. Azog raged and swung his mace upwards under the creature catching behind its metal shield and ripping it from the creature's grasp. It clattered away now useless to its defense.

The little thing brandished its axe with both hands now as Azog swung towards it. It parried once. Twice. And then it struck on its own narrowly missing cutting the orc's face in two. Azog realized he would have to resort to his strength and trickery to crush this stubborn beast. He opened up his side to the thing and it swung its axe with tremendous strength—more than the orc anticipated. Although Azog managed to trap the axe-blades between his arm and side they dug into his flesh and made a deep and horrible gash in his pale skin. The orc snarled in both pain and victory. He slammed his mace upon the defenseless creature. It buckled under the blow but held onto its weapon. It pulled fervently upon the haft of the axe but Azog was stronger. Azog struck again. The creature was upon its knees but still it refused to let go. It growled in pain and frustration at the orc.

He would beat it into an unrecognizable lump if he had to. He struck again and again becoming more and more wild and fierce as he strove against the steadfast metal creature. The axe in his side burned him to a blind fury as he poured his wrath upon his unbreakable enemy. Slowly his vicious and monstrous strokes managed to be beat it to the earth and he began to hammer its metal chest inwards. Although it did not let go of the axe it did not struggle any more either. This wretched thing was his now to end as he pleased. He held aloft his great mace to crush its foul iron head.

Canyo fell a particularly troublesome orc, pushing its body off of his own where it had tackled him and had attempted to force a long knife into his throat. He looked about him at the five strange metal warriors that fought alongside him. They were doing well and seemed nearly impervious to the hurts and blows from the orcs' weapons. They seemed to make light of the fight and were constantly shouting to one another in jestful tones. Their appearance and vigor for battle encouraged him and he found that he began to taunt those he fought all the more, realizing that they were far inferior in skill to him. Only in their greater numbers could they overwhelm him. The odds were much more even now and the orcs were falling rapidly to the weapons Canyo and his strange new allies.

Then he spotted the last metal warrior. It was the thickest and stockiest of the lot but it was being brutalized by Azog at the feet of the hibernating Fangorn and Fimbrethil. It would surely perish in a few seconds if Canyo did not aid it. Azog raised his mace over the creature's vulnerable head poised to end his ally. He could not reach Azog in time. He did the only thing he could do. He pulled the scythe from his belt and hurled it with all of his strength at the back of the pale orc. It was not really made to be thrown but it did manage to slice into the orc's shoulder blade and remain there like some grisly fish hook.

Azog whirled in pain and surprise at the attack from the rear, the scythe dropping to the ground behind him. The metal creature still had the wits to yank its axe from Azog who had forgotten about his all but defeated foe. As the wounded orc captain spun back to its prey, it leapt up and cut deep into his chest and shoved him back towards the fight with the point of the axe haft. Azog looked about him and saw with dismay that the cursed elf boy and his metal allies had slain the last of his worthless _snaga_. He could not hope to face them all in open combat. He cursed and spat as he backed his way towards the trees before they could flank and surround him.

He leveled his black mace at the creature he had nearly destroyed and cursed it in his own black language, _"A curse upon you and your entire stunted race. Wherever your runts dwell, wherever they crawl to hide I shall find them and hound them to death through all the ages of this world. I swear your kind shall have no peace from me." _He spat a mouthful of black blood at them once more, roared in hate and then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the forest.

* * *

Canyo emerged from between the trees back into the starlit clearing. He patted the salve he had made from the bounty of the forest deeper into his cuts to cleanse them. He would have to stitch them soon. He had bound his head with ferns and leaves. He imagined that he looked ridiculous with leaves wrapped around his head, no foot gear, a great black sword, and no others of his kind around. But his allies who stood huddled in the center talking quietly in their strange alien tongue looked ridiculous to him.

They were only as tall as Canyo—two of them shorter. They were broad though—the thic one that Canyo had helped to rescue was nearly three times as thick as Canyo was. They had wild bushy brown hair that flowed from the backs of their metal heads. Two had great cascades of hair from the front of their devilish iron faces that was braided and pulled into great loops. They were all covered in interlacing and overlapping pieces of metal. They were very strange indeed. But he was incredibly thankful for their aid.

When they saw him they looked up and stopped speaking. The one that had fought with Azog stepped forward glanced back at its fellows. Then it reached and pulled its head clean off! At least that is what Canyo thought at first. Then he realized that it was only a covering for its real head. Under its iron head-covering was a face of flesh and blood like unto his. But it was unlike any face he had ever encountered among his people. The brow was heavy, the cheeks overly fat, and the nose broad and bulbous. And from its cheeks and chin came what looked like a waterfall of hair. _He has hair growing from his face!_ It was long and the stunted one had it braided into three long pieces which draped low over the heavily dented iron covering his chest and stomach. At the end they were pulled together and fastened as one with a shiny metal ring.

He smiled immensely and bowed low to Canyo. The others behind him gasped and whispered conspiratorially. He ignored them and rising spoke in a deep and richly accented voice to Canyo, "Hail and well met, friend and fellow hunter of orcs!" He spoke slowly as if he were thinking of his words before speaking them. But he did not pause or hault, and Canyo understood him perfectly.

Canyo quickly bowed in return as it seemed the appropriate thing to do in response. Then he asked curious, "How is it that you speak my tongue?"

"We have met your kind before, back over the mountains. We do not teach our language or speak it in front of others so we have slowly been learning your tongue. We have not had need of it for many hundreds of sleeps now. I hope my words are correct. I am Thrár, 'Adad of the Broadbeam dwarves, and Lord of my halls at Belegost, at your service!"

There were more gasps and whispers from the four others at his back, but Thrár continued to ignore them. He looked up from his bow at Canyo expectantly.

Canyo did not know what an 'adad was or who the Broadbeam dwarves were or where Belegost might be but he replied in turn, "Your words are indeed correct. I am Canyo, son of Nolmo. I am truly thankful for your aid…" He trailed off not knowing what to refer to these short people as.

"Dwarves. You may call us dwarves, young Canyo. And do not worry about the _rakh__â__s_. We have been tracking them and meaning to be done with them for some time now. You gave us a pretty opportunity to do so. But come now, regale my sons and me, how did a child such as you come to be alone in the mountains?"

Canyo glanced at his two friends in their trance. They were as unaware of their surroundings as they had been since first they entered into their frustrating and untimely healing meditation. The dwarves seemed to take no notice at all of them. Perhaps they did not know of Fangorn's kind. Something in Canyo spoke against revealing their existence to these strange new people. He did not understand his foreboding but he obeyed his core instinct.

"I was travelling with my own people over the mountains to the sea. But my party was attacked and all were slain save me. None of my people have sought to find me or to learn if any survived. They moved on and my guess is that they have long passed over the sea upon their errand. I am alone in these lands."

Thrár frowned deeply, "Can you not return to your own people away eastwards?"

Canyo shook his head, "I cannot. I am sundered from those to the east as much as I am from those to the west. They would not have me and I would not have them either." He remembered the fear and abandonment of the families that left upon the Great Journey. He certainly had no business and no desire to return to them wherever they had decided to settle.

The Dwarf Lord's brow deepened in consternation. He looked back at his four sons, all of whom had removed their iron masks, and stood staring with varying degrees of disquiet at their father. He turned back to Canyo and spoke, "You place me between a hammer and anvil, boy. You saved my life and I owe you a great debt. I would have guarded you and returned you to the safety of your own people. I would have remained your friend and at your service ever more. Yet you say that you have truly lost your people and that no one shall accept you if I take you to them."

Canyo nodded his head in agreement.

"Then I am deeply conflicted about how I shall repay my debt to you, boy."

"No you do not owe me any debt! You rescued me first from the orcs. We are now even by all accounts."

"Nay. I am indeed indebted. We were already hunting the foul beasts and were simply lucky to have prevented them from doing more evil by taking your life. You however had no prior intent to rescue me and no imperative to do so by your plans. You could have simply seen that you were free, slain the few orcs between you and escape, and left the rest to us. However, you not only remained by our sides as an ally but you dealt that pale scum a sting that freed me and kept him from dealing the blow that would have ended my life. Yes, boy, I am in great debt to you. And therein lays my predicament."

"I do not understand. I do not want for anything here in the forest. You should not feel obliged to aid me in any way."

"You are indeed correct in saying that you do not understand. You do not understand the customs of our folk. A debt is owed and it must be repaid. I cannot return you, lost boy, to your people. If you were a dwarf child like my family I would happily take you into my halls and foster you and thus repay my debt. But you are not a dwarf and we do not share our secrets or our ways with strangers."

There were vigorous nods and sounds of agreement from Thrár's sons.

"But this still leaves me with the problem of owing a lost elf child a life-debt. How would you have me repay you, boy?"

"Let me be free to remain here in the forests of the mountains. As I have said I shall be perfectly safe and want for nothing. I have learned how to forage and hunt for all I require." Canyo's eye's involuntarily darted to Fangorn and Fimbrethil. If the Dwarves just agreed to let him go his own way he could simply wait until his tree-ish friends awoke from their hibernation and they could all live on happily.

Thrár studied Canyo for a long while. His sons glanced from their tough and bearded father back to the slender and wild wood-elf. Finally he gave a deep sigh.

"You have my leave, boy, to remain in these woods upon the mountains. But I grant this upon one condition only. You must come back with my sons and me to my halls and there dwell under my protection until such a time as I deem that you are sturdy and man enough to truly care for yourself without aid."

At this both Canyo and all four of the Dwarf Lord's sons gave cries of surprise. The sons began to grumble in their strange tongue. Canyo felt much the same as they did. This was not what he desired. He did not wish to live among these strange people. All he wished was that circumstances would return to how they had been before the huge monsters had attacked the _Onodrim_ and him. Now he was being taken to dwell who knows where with these rough, rugged, and stunted people with their harsh flowing language and their strange hair sprouting from their faces.

"Please, Lord Thrár, I am eternally grateful for your kind generosity but I shall truly be safe here in the forest. I do not need the protection of your halls or your family."

The dwarf chuffed and quipped, "Of course you do not need us. You were doing splendidly when we found you with the orcs."

Canyo felt his face grow hot and flush red. He had been foolish and arrogant during his fight. But he would learn for the next time. "I made a mistake. I will not make that mistake in the future."

"No, I have no doubt that you will not make that same mistake again," Thrár guffawed, "You shall make mistakes of an entirely different kind in the future! And that is why you shall come with me until you are grown in my eyes. This is how I shall repay my debt to you, boy."

One of his sons stepped forward and grabbed Thrár by his arm, " _'Adad_!" he whispered fiercely. He was ever so slightly taller than the older dwarf—about Canyo's height. But the dwarf was doubly as thick as the boy, and the hair growing all over his head was very dark, almost black. It was twisted and woven into many braids until the very ends where the hair puffed out in small wild tufts. He seemed fierce and angry to Canyo. The son pulled his father away and whispered to him in their language.

_"What are you doing, father? You cannot bring him back to our home! It is against our ways! He shall see mother, and my wife, and my sisters! He shall see the works of our hands and the secrets of our skills. Do you truly mean for us to speak his strange tongue within the walls of our own domain? I for one shall not utter a word to him in any tongue if you bring him amongst us. Have you no regard for all of the customs that Mahal taught to you and the other Fathers, and that you in turn taught to us?"_

_ "Firstly, son, remove your hand from me. I am your Father and Lord, not one of your brothers or cousins. You disrespect me greatly. I am still the ruler of this family and this house and you shall do as I say so long as I am Lord. If I decree that this boy is to come amongst us for a time then it shall be so, and neither you nor any other dwarf under hill or stone shall speak against it. You shall bear it and obey. I have not forgotten the customs of Mahal. I respect him always—more so than you appear to respect your own father!"_

_ "How can you then in good conscience bring some wild brat who is not even a dwarf into our mountain sanctuary? He is not worthy of our lore and skills. He would mar and poison our ways with his own strange thoughts."_

_ "Have you gone deaf? The boy has lost his people for some time. He is alone. He is not the harbinger that will spell doom for our way of life. You cast harsh judgment upon the child ere you have spent time with him. I thought I taught you better than this! I honor Mahal by guarding the child in repayment of my debt. I am at the boy's service. And I shall ever be to the end of my days long after he has left the protection of my halls."_

_ "So this is your solution? You would sacrifice the secrecy and sanctity of our family to ease your own conscience? What happens when the boy is grown and leaves our home? He will betray us to the others of his kind who remain in the east. Or he will go forth and make forgeries of our works in poor mimicry of our vision and skill."_

_ "And if he does wield hammer and anvil in the making of works of his own, of what concern is that to me? The world shall be more beautiful and ordered as a result! And what do you fear from the others of his people in the east. Those we met were friendly to us! Truly your fear and anger baffles me, son! You strike down the wrong fault in thinking that I intend to teach him our deepest secrets, to reveal our own family tongue, or to wed him off to one of my daughters! I have no intention of doing so! And even if I did choose to do these things, it would be my decision to make and yours to understand and not cause trouble for it, whether you agree or no. As it is, he shall only live amongst us. We shall provide food and shelter and allow him to roam at his will beyond our doors. But he is my responsibility until he is full grown into the manhood of his own kind. This is my decree and you shall bear it as will your brothers and sisters. Now get you back to your siblings and guard your tongue before it delves you into a well from which you cannot escape."_

His son stared flintily at his father but said no more. He stomped back to his brothers who looked just as unhappy as he but not brave enough to speak against their father about it. Canyo, who had understood none of this exchange, stood nervously and awkwardly to the side. Their tones and body movement showed tension and disagreement. Thrár seemed to put his son in his place and he stamped off to the others.

The Dwarf Lord turned to Canyo, "It is settled, boy. You shall return with us to my halls at Belegost. There you shall be safe with my family. You shall have shelter and food and training after a fashion if you desire. But you shall also be free to roam the forests round our home at your leisure. Come now, boy, and follow us. We return to our home and your new sanctuary. We walk to the halls of Belegost, which, ere my eyes close in death, my sons and I shall make into a truly wondrous city! For now though, I declare that my family and I are at your service!"

* * *

*_Zai dashunizu_: Khuzdul for "At your service."

The Azog in this story is meant to be the Azog of Tolkien's books (kills Thror alone sparking the war between the dwarves and orcs and perishes at the battle of Azanulbizar at the hands of Dain), but appears visually as he does in Jackson's films. As Tolkien did not give a physical description of Azog (or if he did I am woefully unaware of it) I find no problem with this minor fusion of book and film.

A TREMENDOUS shout out goes to the Dwarrow Scholar! Over the course of this chapter and the upcoming ones I will pull greatly from information on his site as well as things I asked him. If you desire to know ANYTHING about the dwarves of Middle Earth or their secret language of Khuzdul, visit his site by entering "dwarrow scholar" on google. It should be the first hit. Cheers and thank you to everyone who bothers to read this!

10


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